Sheer Mischief

On the other hand, however, just introducing Bruno and Maxine was playing with fire. A bloody great bonfire, thought Janey ruefully, for already the inevitable sparks of interest were there. She could almost predict what would follow. Maxine and Bruno, both brimming with confidence and rapier-like repartee, were a perfectly matched pair. Whilst she, in dismal contrast, could practically feel herself melting into the wallpaper.

As she had known he would, Bruno ushered them to the most favoured table in the restaurant, next to the window.

‘Come on, forty minutes over coffee is long enough,’ he informed the diners already seated there. Whisking away cups and liqueur glasses and signalling to one of the waitresses to bring fresh linen and cutlery, he added briskly, ‘Time’s up, off you go, don’t forget to leave an enormous tip.’

‘Charming,’ muttered the younger of the two men. Bruno, winking at Janey and Maxine, slipped an arm around their waists and gave them both an appreciative squeeze.

‘Charming isn’t the word, sir. These ladies are stupendous ... magnificent ... the jewels in my own personal crown. And just think, if you hadn’t spent practically a week’s wages earlier on that ludicrously expensive bottle of wine, you might even have been able to afford to take them home with you for the night.’

‘Hmmph,’ snorted the older man, eyeing Maxine’s bare legs with disdain as he rose to his feet.

‘And hmmph to you too,’ said Bruno cheerfully, guiding them towards the door. ‘Goodbye, gentlemen. Have a wonderful evening. See you again very soon.’

‘Gosh,’ said Maxine, watching with admiration as Bruno waved them off the premises. ‘Is he always like this?’

Janey, who was studying the menu, nodded. ‘All the time.’

‘But doesn’t he lose an awful lot of customers?’

Janey shrugged. ‘Bruno says it keeps them on their toes. And the ones he doesn’t kick out are so grateful they leave bigger tips.’

Maxine was clearly impressed. When Bruno returned to their table with a bottle of Pouilly Fumé and pulled up another chair, Janey was surprised she didn’t offer to sit on his lap.

‘I love this place,’ Maxine declared, her expansive gesture encompassing the green and white decor, the latticed ceiling and the spectacular view from the window. ‘Thank goodness we didn’t go to La Campagnola! And why on earth hasn’t my big sister brought me here before?’

Having given Janey a look of mock reproach, she returned her attention to Bruno. ‘She’s a sly one, I must say. She told me she didn’t know any interesting men in Trezale.’ With an arch smile, she added, ‘And to think that you were here all the time.’

Janey, who would have torn out her own tonsils rather than come out with such a line, stared at her in disbelief. Was she being serious? Did other women really say things like that and get away with it? Had Maxine no shame?

The answer, it seemed, was no. If anything, her sister was looking more entranced than ever. The thin straps of her indigo camisole were slipping off her shoulders now and she was making no attempt to pull them up again. Her dark eyes, illuminated by candlelight, were bright with unconcealed interest.

‘But how do you know each other?’ she was asking Bruno, her chin cupped in one hand and the camisole top gaping to reveal more chest than ever.

In reply, he touched the arrangement of lilac and white freesias in the centre of the table.

‘She brings me flowers.’ Maxine grinned. ‘How romantic.’

‘Come on, pay attention,’ said Janey firmly, thrusting the menu into her free hand. ‘You’re the one who was so hungry. I’m having the seafood risotto and the lamb.’

By the time their food arrived, Maxine was in her element. Having discovered as much about Bruno Parry-Brent in the space of thirty minutes as Janey had learned in a year, she was now regaling him with her own life history. By the time they had moved on to the coffees, she was launching into a bitchy attack on Guy Cassidy.

‘He’s the one paying for this meal tonight,’ Janey pointed out in Guy’s defence.

Maxine looked scornful. ‘Only because he wanted me out of the way.’ Turning back to Bruno, she went on, ‘You wouldn’t believe this girlfriend of his. I didn’t think anyone could treat me worse than Guy, but at least he’s been known to say the odd please and thank you. Serena Charlton’s a living nightmare; I can’t believe what terrible taste in women some men have.’

Janey couldn’t resist it. ‘Maxine’s only saying this because Guy isn’t interested in her,’ she explained. ‘She had visions of moving into Trezale House and dazzling him, and it hasn’t happened. It’s been a great disappointment to her.’

‘Oh, crushing,’ Maxine agreed with a trace of mockery.

‘But her ego, of course, won’t allow her to admit it.’ Janey smiled. Two could play at bitchery. Besides, Maxine had been showing off for long enough. She deserved it.

‘He comes in here quite often,’ said Bruno, aware of the undercurrents and of Janey’s irritation with her sister. It didn’t take a genius, he deduced, to figure out the reason for it.

‘Brings some spectacular women with him, too.’

‘His harem.’ Maxine gave a dismissive shrug and spooned brown sugar into her coffee.

‘So are you going to stick it out?’ Bruno grinned. ‘Or leave?’

Maxine hesitated. Rattling on about Guy’s pigheadedness was one thing, but she had no intention of jacking in her job.

‘He’s a pain,’ she said with a brave smile, ‘but the kids are OK. It wouldn’t be fair to leave them.’

Janey pulled a face. ‘My sister, the patron saint of children.’ Turning to address Bruno once more, she said evenly, ‘Take it from me, nothing interests Maxine more than a man who isn’t interested in her. As long as Guy puts up with her, she’ll stay. She doesn’t give up on anyone without a fight.’

‘So how long have you had this raging crush on Bruno?’ said Maxine, on the way home.

Janey concentrated on driving. The lane leading up to Trezale House was narrow and unlit.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she replied, her manner offhand. ‘He’s a friend, that’s all.’

‘And I’m your sister,’ declared Maxine, not fooled for a moment by her apparent lack of interest. ‘Come on, Janey! First you don’t even mention him, then you have a go at me, deliberately putting me down in front of him. Why else would you do it?’

‘You were showing off.’

Maxine shot her a triumphant grin. ‘I’m always showing off. What’s so interesting is the fact that this time you minded like hell. Darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of ... there’s no reason on earth why you shouldn’t fancy him! He’s an attractive man. I thought he was lovely.’

‘I know you thought he was lovely,’ said Janey in cutting tones. In her less-than-serene state, she crunched the van’s gears. ‘The entire restaurant knows you thought he was lovely. I just don’t understand why you have to be so obvious.’

‘Because that’s the way I am.’ Maxine shrugged. ‘But we’re getting away from the point.

The reason I asked you about your own little crush was because I wanted to know how serious it was. If you’re madly in love with him, I’ll do the decent thing and steer clear. After all,’ she added infuriatingly, ‘I wouldn’t want to waltz in and snatch away the first man you’ve been interested in since Alan.’

Janey gritted her teeth, sensing that they were on the verge of their first real quarrel for years. Even more annoying was the fact that, deep down, she knew she was the one at fault. She was also in serious danger of cutting off her nose to spite her face.

As they approached Trezale House, she took a deep steadying breath. ‘OK, I do like him.

He is the first man I’ve been interested in since Alan, and the reason I didn’t tell you about Bruno was because I didn’t want you to say anything embarrassing when you met him.’ She drew the van to a halt, switched off the engine and gazed out into the darkness ahead. ‘There, so now you know.’

‘Well, hallelujah!’ Maxine retorted. ‘I don’t know why you couldn’t have said all that in the first place. Darling, it’s no big deal. Sometimes you’re just too proud by half!’

Unlike Maxine, thought Janey, who had no pride at all. She still wasn’t entirely happy, either. The last thing she needed was to be patronized by a younger sister who thought the entire situation too amusing for words.

‘You needn’t worry,’ Maxine assured her now. ‘From this moment on, he’s all yours. I shall treat Bruno like a brother. We shall he friends.’ She grinned. ‘And I shan’t even try to imagine what he looks like naked.’

Janey was tired. She sensed, too, that Maxine was still poking gentle fun at her. ‘It’s past midnight,’ she announced pointedly. ‘You’re allowed back into the house now. And I have to be up at five.’

But Maxine was still prattling on about Bruno. ‘He is fun, though. I still can’t believe he practically booted those customers out into the street just so we could sit at the best table. You have to admit, darling, that takes style!’

‘Oh, please,’ sighed Janey. ‘Don’t tell me you fell for that old routine. Nick and Tony run the antique shop next door to the restaurant. Bruno does that to them every night.’

Chapter 16

In for a penny, in for a pound. Having given the matter a great deal of thought, Janey replied to the advertisement in the paper, posted it at once so she couldn’t change her mind, then began drafting out an ad of her own. The chances of Mr Presentable turning out to be Mr Ideal might be slim, but if she received a dozen replies she would at least have a selection to choose from. And if eleven of them were duds it wouldn’t even matter, because number twelve could be perfect and one perfect male was all she needed.

It really was extraordinarily difficult, though, describing oneself in just a few brief sentences. If she exaggerated the facts she risked ridicule when she eventually came to face it out. The prospect of being greeted with a look of horror and a derisory ‘I thought you said you were attractive’, was positively bone-chilling. The bald facts, however, – ‘plumpish, blondish deserted wife’ – might be so off-putting that no man would even be tempted to reply.

It took longer than filling out a tax return and was about as harrowing. Every time a customer came into the shop she jumped a mile and shoved her writing pad under the counter.

When Paula returned from making the morning deliveries, Janey was so engrossed she hardly heard her words.

‘I’ve had a brilliant idea.’

The pad was hidden but the pen was still in Janey’s hand. Twiddling it frantically between her fingers and pretending she’d been writing down an order, she managed, ‘What?’

‘If you placed one of those ads yourself, you could arrange to meet each man somewhere busy and ask them to wear a white carnation in their buttonhole.’

‘So?’

Paula, looking pleased with herself, pulled herself on to the spare stool and swung her legs.

‘So, all we have to do is sit here and wait for men to come in asking for a single white carnation.

You’ll be able to have a good look at them first, incognito. And if they’re too hideous for words you wouldn’t have to bother turning up.’

‘Cruel!’ protested Janey, starting to laugh.

‘Sensible. Not to mention good for business.’ Paula threw her a sidelong glance. ‘Do you think you might advertise, then?’

Paula was trustworthy, but some items of gossip were just too good to pass up. Her mother worked at Trezale House and Janey was determined that Maxine shouldn’t find out about this.

Now, more than ever, she needed to keep the last vestiges of her self-confidence intact.

‘Maybe when I’m fifty,’ she replied with tolerant amusement. ‘But for now, I think I’ll give it a miss.’

Maxine, unable to understand why she couldn’t simply scrawl the names on with pink Magic Marker, was struggling ill-temperedly to sew name tapes into Josh’s school shirts. Guy hadn’t helped, earlier, when he had remarked, ‘Not that anyone else is likely to mistake Josh’s shirts for their own, the way you iron them.’

He had said it jokingly, but Maxine had detected the dig. And although she’d been sewing for the last two and a half hours the pile of new school clothes still waiting to be attacked seemed more mountainous than ever.

‘Dad’s taking photographs of Serena,’ Josh reported from his position in the window seat overlooking the back garden. He frowned. ‘She doesn’t have very big bosoms for a grown-up.’

Maxine suppressed the memory of what she’d imagined working for Guy would be like. In her innocence she’d envisaged organizing games of hide-and-seek for the children, accompanying them to the pantomime and in her free time socializing happily with Guy. In her more elaborate fantasies, she was the one being endlessly photographed. And because Guy was so famous and respected, interest in his stunning new model would spread like wildfire ... the life of a super model beckoned ... she would become wealthy, a celebrity, loved by everyone ...

especially Guy Cassidy.

‘But then your bosoms are only little, as well,’ said Josh, who had been studying her with a critical eye. ‘Your sister has much bigger ones than you.’

‘A word of advice.’ Maxine clenched her teeth as she bit off a length of thread. ‘You’ll find life a lot easier if you don’t go through it telling people what small bosoms they have.’

‘Bosoms’ was currently his favourite word. Josh smirked.

‘And don’t you think you should be getting changed into something more suitable?’

Guy and Serena were supposed to be taking both Josh and Ella into St Ives for lunch and it was one o’clock already. Maxine, who had set her heart on an afternoon of serious sunbathing, was beginning to wonder if they’d forgotten.

Josh shrugged. ‘Oh, we aren’t going now. Dad’s taking Serena to meet some of her friends instead. They’ve got a yacht moored at Falmouth.’

Maxine’s heart sank. Bang went her peaceful afternoon. She wondered whether Serena had done it on purpose.

‘So we’re staying here with you,’ said Josh cheerfully. Then, in conversational tones he added, ‘Why do you keep pricking your fingers, Maxine? I hope all that blood’s going to wash out.’

Maxine was battling with the washing machine, which was making alarming noises like a jailer rattling his keys, when the doorbell rang. Glancing out through the kitchen window she saw a silver-grey Rolls Royce parked majestically in the drive. What fun, she thought, if the visitor was yet another of Guy’s ritzy model girlfriends, complete with sneer and a bootful of suitcases. He could install her in the other spare bedroom and visit them on alternate nights like some Arab sheik.

But just as the identity of the last unexpected caller had turned out not to be the milkman but Serena, so thisone appeared not to be a pouting, leggy model at all.

Wrong again, thought Maxine, realizing that she was grinning inanely at the visitor on the doorstep. What a good job she hadn’t set her heart on a career as a fortune teller.

‘Good afternoon,’ said the man, and although she was certain they hadn’t met before, he looked vaguely familiar. Hastily rearranging the grin into a more suitable smile, Maxine shook his outstretched hand and wondered if he might know something about erratic washing machines.

‘You must be Maxine, the new nanny,’ he continued warmly. ‘I’m Oliver Cassidy.’

Realization dawned. ‘I spoke to you on the phone earlier,’ she said, recognizing the deep, well-bred voice. ‘How nice to meet you, but I’m afraid Guy isn’t back yet. We aren’t expecting him home until this evening.’

‘I know.’ Oliver Cassidy looked a lot like his son but Maxine felt he possessed a great deal more charm. Now he shrugged and smiled. ‘But it seemed a shame to pass up the opportunity to see my grandchildren. It’s been quite a while, you see, and I’m only down here for the afternoon.’

Delighted to see him and mightily impressed with his car — which even had personalized plates — Maxine said at once, ‘Come in! Of course you couldn’t miss seeing the children.They’re playing in the summer-house at the moment; shall I go and call them or would you prefer to take them by surprise?’

‘Oh, surprise, I think.’ Guy’s father winked at her. He really was tons nicer than Guy, she decided. She’d never really gone for older men before, but he was almost enough to make her think again.

‘Can ‘I get you a drink?’ she said brightly, but Oliver Cassidy shook his head.

‘That’s kind of you, my dear, but I’d better not. I’m driving.’

‘It’s a beautiful car,’ said Maxine.

‘My great pride and joy.’ He nodded, acknowledging her admiration. ‘I thought Josh and Ella might enjoy a ride in it before I leave. If you have no objections, that is.’

‘Of course not!’ Maxine’s reply was almost vehement, her approval of Guy’s father was increasing in leaps and bounds. And now she would be able to sunbathe in peace after all.

‘Take them out for as long as you like,’ she told him happily. ‘I’m sure they’d love a trip in your car. What a shame, though, that you’ll miss seeing Guy.’

‘I cannot ... simply can not believe you could be so stupid!’

He was more furious than Maxine had ever imagined possible. ‘Fury’ wasn’t enough to describe his emotions. ‘Rage’ wasn’t good enough either. Guy simply looked as if he wanted to kill her.

This is it, she thought numbly. Now I really am out of a job and on to the streets.

Almost more galling, however, was the fact that Serena appeared to be on her side.

‘Look,’ said Maxine, struggling to defend herself and willing herself not to lose her temper.

‘I’ve already said I’m sorry, but how on earth was I supposed to know I was doing the wrong thing? He just turned up on the doorstep like any normal grandfather and said he’d cometo see Josh and Ella. From the way he acted, I assumed he was a regular visitor. And he seemed perfectly nice—’

‘Yes, darling,’ put in Serena, her tone soothing.

Her defence of Maxine’s actions was wholly astonishing as far as Maxine was concerned, and coming from any other quarter it would have afforded her some small comfort to know that she wasn’t as negligent as Guy was making out.

‘It isn’t Maxine’s fault that you and your father aren’t on speaking terms,’ Serena went on.

‘If you didn’t want him to see the children you should have told her.’

His eyes glittered. ‘He’s seen them once before. Only once, when he wasn’t given any alternative. So it was hardly likely that he’d turn up.’

Serena shrugged as if to say, Well, there you are then, but Guy hadn’t finished.

‘Besides, that’s hardly the point.’ Turning back to Maxine, he said icily, ‘He could have been anybody. Josh and Ella could have been kidnapped, held to ransom .. . murdered.’

‘He wasn’t a kidnapper,’ shouted Maxine. ‘He was your father.’

‘You mean he told you he was my father.’

Stung by his derisory tone, she snapped back. ‘He looked like you. Only better.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’

Maxine had had enough. It wasn’t as if Josh and Ella had been at all harmed, anyway. True to his word, Oliver Cassidy had taken them out in the Rolls, given them afternoon tea at one of the better beach-front hotels and delivered them back safely at five o’clock, as promised. He had even left them each clutching a crisp fifty-pound note because, as he’d explained to Maxine, it was hard to know what to buy children these days now that train sets and dolls were passé. It wasn’t until after he’d left that she’d made the alarming discovery that Josh and Ella didn’t actually know their grandfather. Although being on the receiving end of fifty-pound notes certainly went some way towards persuading them that they should.

‘Go on then,’ she said abruptly, rising to her feet and glaring back at Guy. ‘You’re dying to do it, so sack me. Find yourself a new nanny who’ll safety-pin the children to her ankles and shoot any strangers on sight. In the meantime, I’m sure Serena would just adore to stay on for a few more weeks and look after them herself.’

Too late she remembered that Serena had been sticking up for her, although it hardly mattered now. If she was out on her ear she’d never see either of them again anyway.

As far as Serena was concerned, however, the bitter jibe was too true to be offensive. ‘I’ve got work lined up,’ she said hurriedly. ‘My agent would kill me if I tried to cancel anything now.’

Guy crossed to the drinks tray and poured himself a stiff Scotch. Part of him still wanted to kill Maxine but he was making an effort to calm down. Since even Serena had defended Maxine’s actions, he realized now that the hatred he bore his father had led him to overreact.

Maxine undoubtedly had her faults, but the fact remained that Josh and Ella adored her. And although he still didn’t have the faintest idea why his father had turned up out of the blue, they had enjoyed themselves. Josh had only been six and Ella four when Véronique had taken them to meet him and even if they dimly recalled the events of that day they clearly hadn’t connected them with this afternoon’s surprise visitor. Both children had thoroughly enjoyed themselves and Josh, who was smitten with expensive cars — not to mention crisp new bank notes — was already asking when they might see him again.

As far as Guy was concerned, ‘when hell freezes over’ was the phrase that sprang most readily to mind, but it was a reply he’d kept to himself. And he supposed that, given the circumstances, Maxine couldn’t really have been expected to refuse entry to an apparently charming relative visiting his much-loved grandchildren.

Draining his Scotch, he turned back to find Maxine, the picture of belligerence, still glaring at him. With her blond hair ruffled, she looked like an indignant parakeet.

‘Oh cheer up,’ he said with a trace of exasperation. ‘I’m not going to sack you. Just take a bit more care in future, OK? They might not be the best behaved kids in the world but they’re all I’ve got, so I’d quite like to hang on to them if I could.’

Chapter 17

It was all happening amazingly quickly. Janey, who had envisaged a wait of at least a fortnight before hearing anything back from Mr Presentable, had been caught so off-guard by his phone call that before she could gather her wits she heard herself agreeing to meet him that evening. Profoundly grateful that Paula wasn’t in the shop at the time, she added hurriedly, ‘Why don’t you wear a carnation? Then I’ll be able to recognize you.’

‘Why don’t you just look out for a tall, dark-haired man in a navy blue blazer and grey flannels?’ he countered, sounding faintly amused. ‘I’m not really the carnation-wearing type.’

‘Oh.’ Crestfallen, and on behalf of florists everywhere, Janey said, ‘Why not?’

‘Every time I put one in my buttonhole,’ he replied, ‘I find myself getting married.’

His name was Alexander Norcross and he had two ex-wives, a dark blue Porsche and a small cottage on the outskirts of Trelissick. Janey also suspected that his refusal to wear a carnation was due to the fact that it would have meant buying one.

‘No, we decided against children,’ he explained, over lukewarm coffee in a quiet bar away from the seafront which Janey had suggested because nobody she knew ever went there. ‘They cost an absolute fortune. My wives tried to make me change my mind, of course, but I wasn’t having any of it. There’s no way I could have afforded to keep the Porsche on the road and bring up kids as well.’ Leaning across the table he added confidentially, ‘So I got out each time they started hankering, before they had a chance to pull the old "Oops, how did that happen?" routine.

It isn’t as if they really wanted children, after all. They just saw their friends doing it and didn’t want to miss out. It didn’t even occur to them to consider the expense.’

It was truly astounding, thought Janey, that someone so mean with money should be so generous with his aftershave. Great wafts of Old Spice were whooshing up her nose. It even seemed to have invaded her cup of coffee, which hadn’t tasted great in the first place. She wondered how soon she could decently leave.

But meeting Alexander was an education, at least. He wasn’t bad looking, he had a nice voice and he was tall. The packaging, she decided, was as much as anyone could possibly hope for. The only let-down was the fact that it belonged to a complacent, penny-pinching bore.

But there was also the irresistible challenge of discovering just how awful he could be.

Summoning up a Maxine-ish smile and working hard not to inhale too much Old Spice, she said,

‘So has advertising been a success? I expect you’ve met lots of girls.’

‘Ah, but it’s quality that counts.’ Alexander gave her a knowing look. ‘Not quantity. I’ve found the initial telephone conversations to be revealing, Jane. All some of these females are interested in is a free meal, which is when I make my excuses. That’s why I was so interested in meeting you,’ he added happily. ‘As soon as I read your letter, I felt we had something in common. And when you suggested we meet for a quick drink, I knew I was right.’

‘Thank you,’ murmured Janey, by this time struggling to keep a straight face. ‘After all, why should people need to eat in order to get to know one another?’

‘Exactly my point!’ Alexander looked positively triumphant. Finishing his cold coffee, he pushed the cup and saucer an inch or two in her direction. ‘And when you consider the ridiculous prices restaurants charge for an omelette ... well, I call it money down the drain. I’d rather stay at home and know I wasn’t being ripped off. How about you Jane?’ he added, gazing at her with renewed interest and approval. ‘Do you cook?’

Thanking her lucky stars she hadn’t pinned all her hopes on Alexander Norcross, Janey was longing to tell someone the story of the brief encounter which - bizarrely - had gone some way towards restoring her own self-confidence.

‘It was so ghastly it ended up being funny,’ she said to Bruno the following morning, grinning as she recalled the way Alexander had complained to the bar manager about the price of a cup of coffee. ‘He was so awful, but he really thought he was Britain’s answer to Mel Gibson.

If you could have seen the look on his face when I said I wouldn’t be seeing him again—’

Was he handsome?’

‘Oh yes, but such a jerk! When I got back to the flat I was dying to phone Maxine to give her all the gory details, but I’d already decided not to tell her anything about answering the ad. I shouldn’t be telling you, either.’ Janey tried to look repentant, and failed. ‘You’re just as likely to make fun of me as she is. But it was funny, and I had to tell someone.’

‘It certainly seems to have cheered you up,’ remarked Bruno, inwardly appalled that she should have been driven to reply to a newspaper advert in the first place. ‘But Janey, aren’t you taking a bit of a risk? You don’t need to do that kind of thing. A gorgeous girl like you could take her pick of men.’

Colouring at the compliment, even if it was only Bruno saying what he would no doubt say to anyone under the age of ninety, she resorted to flippancy. ‘Yes, well. The neighbours were starting to complain about the queues outside my front door so ‘I thought I’d try going about it another way.’

‘Hmm.’ Bruno, who wasn’t stupid, surveyed her through narrowed eyes. ‘Or does it have something to do with that noisy, pushy sister of yours?’

Janey could have hugged him. She’d been so sure he would be entranced by Maxine. Her self-confidence rose by yet another notch. ‘Not at all,’ she lied, relaxing visibly but still not quite daring to admit that she’d placed an advertisement of her own. ‘I just thought I’d give it a go. It didn’t work out. End of story.’

‘I should bloody well hope so.’ Bruno glanced at his watch and saw that he’d have to get a move on if they were to open for lunch. Janey was gorgeous, he thought. She deserved a hell of a lot better than a guy with a Porsche and a padlocked wallet. ‘Look, I could get away early tonight.’ As he spoke, he began unpacking the box of flowers she had brought to the restaurant, pink carnations and sweet-smelling lilac today to match the new tablecloths. ‘If you aren’t doing anything, why don’t we go out for something to eat?’

‘Oh!’ Janey looked astonished. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, ‘But this is your restaurant. Shouldn’t we eat here?’

‘That would make it business.’ Bruno gave her one of his most irresistible smiles. ‘What I had in mind was pleasure.’

‘But you’re—’

‘I’m not married,’ he reminded her. ‘And I don’t argue with bar managers about the price of coffee, either.’

‘But—’

‘No more excuses,’ said Bruno, his tone firm. ‘I’ll pick you up at ten.’

‘Oh, but—’ said Janey, torn between delight and the hideous prospect of having to get up at five o’clock tomorrow morning.

‘Stop it,’ said Bruno, very firmly indeed. ‘It’ll be fun.’ Then he winked. ‘Besides, better the devil you know ...’

The drawback to being picked up at ten o’clock in the evening was that it left one with far too much time to get ready. Instead of flinging on the first decent thing that came to hand, Janey found herself racked with indecision. None of the more casual skirts and tee-shirts she wore for work would do; Bruno had seen them all a hundred times. The black sequinned dress was wonderfully slimming but it would be way over the top, and the only other really decent outfit she owned, a violet crêpe-de-Chine affair with no back and swirly skirts, made her look like something out of Come Dancing.

Clothes littered the bed as she tried on and discarded one outfit after another. A white, dripping-with-lace blouse resembled nothing so much as an overdone wedding cake. The black trousers were too tight, her favourite red silk shirt had a hole in the sleeve and Maxine had spilt make-up down the front of her cream lambswool sweater.

Finally settling for a sea-green shirt and white jeans, Janey did her make-up and fiddled with her hair. After putting it up, experimenting with combs and taking it down again because the combs wouldn’t stay in anyway, it was still only eight-thirty. When the phone rang fifteen minutes later she almost hoped it would be Bruno calling to tell her he couldn’t get away after all. Her stomach could only stand so many jitters. She had been looking forward to the evening far more than was good for her. Bruno might not he married to Nina but he still wasn’t properly single, either.

‘Janey? Now listen to me. Get out of that old dressing gown and do yourself up this instant!’

Maxine was shouting into the phone to make herself heard above a background of loud music and roars of male approval.

‘Where are you calling from?’ said Janey. ‘It sounds like a strip-joint.’

‘What? We’re down at the Terrace Bar of the Manderley Hotel. My lovely cricketer’s come back to Cornwall and he’s brought the rest of the team with him, so I’m hopelessly outnumbered.

They’re calling for reinforcements, Janey, and as soon as ‘I mentioned a fancy-free sister they insisted I get you down here.’ She giggled. ‘In fact they carried me to the phone.’

Janey, listening to the ear-splitting whistles of eleven over-excited cricketers, said, ‘I can’t, I’m going out.’

‘Who with?’

‘A friend.’

‘Who?’ demanded Maxine.

‘Nobody you know.’

‘That means nobody at all! Darling, don’t be so boring. You wanted to meet new men and here I am, granting your wish with a dazzling selection ... they’re dying to meet you and now you’re chickening out. Oh, look what you’ve done to them. They’re starting to cry.’

From the chorus of boo-hoos now drowning out Maxine’s protests, it certainly sounded as if they had a collective mental age of around seven. Janey could only wonder at the amount of beer they must have consumed.

‘I really can’t,’ she repeated patiently. ‘I’m meeting a friend for a quick drink and then I must get an early night. I have to be up at five o’clock in the morning to go to the flower market,’ chanted Maxine, who had heard it all before. Janey, how many times do I have to tell you, there are more important things in life than getting enough sleep? These boys are raring to go. You’re missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime here!’

‘Then I’ll just have to miss out,’ she said firmly, so that Maxine wouldn’t be tempted to persist. ‘And I’m sure you can handle them all beautifully without my help. I’ll ring you tomorrow to see how your hangover is, but I really do have to go now. Bye.’

‘If I’d known we were coming here I would never have worn jeans,’ whispered Janey for the third time as they were finishing their meal. The black sequinned dress wouldn’t have been OTT after all, she decided, glancing around at the other diners. And she wouldn’t have needed to fumble under the tablecloth surreptitiously in order to loosen her belt three more notches.

‘Heavens, I haven’t eaten so much in years. This food is perfect!’

‘But not too perfect,’ said Bruno, who liked to keep an eye on the opposition. Looking pleased with himself, he said, ‘The mange-touts were a fraction overdone and the Bordelaise could have used a touch more black pepper. This Burgundy’s good though,’ he admitted, twirling the stem of his glass and sniffing the wine appreciatively. ‘Very nice indeed. I may have to order some of this for the restaurant. Nick and Tony would go into raptures over it.’

Janey, mindful of the last time Bruno had plied her with wine, was rationing herself severely. Determined that tonight she was going to stay in control — and awake -she shook her head as he held the bottle towards her.

‘Maxine was most impressed with the way you kicked them out the other night.’

‘Ah, well. I expect it made her feel important.’ Bruno looked amused. ‘I imagine it’s the kind of thing she enjoys.’

‘It’s what she lives for,’ said Janey dryly. Then, glimpsing the expression on his face, she added, ‘I know I’m being bitchy and disloyal, but I don’t care. Sometimes Maxine goes too far.’

‘No need to apologize.’ Calmly, Bruno leaned forward and examined the slender gold chain around her neck. ‘I’ve only met her once but it was enough to put me in the picture. I don’t think I’d walk too far out of my way for one of her dazzling smiles.’

It was reward enough to know that just one man was impervious to Maxine’s charms.That the man in question should be Bruno was positively blissful. Like a puppy yearning to have its ears tickled, Janey moved fractionally closer so that the fingers investigating her necklace could brush against her skin. When they did so, she experienced once again the delicious tingle of anticipation only Bruno’s touch could evoke.

‘I thought you’d adore her,’ she confessed, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

‘Then you don’t know me as well as you think you do.’

‘I suppose not.’

The green eyes glittered. ‘So in future, maybe you should leave it up to me to decide whom I adore.’

It was only Bruno, she reminded herself breathlessly, coming out with his usual banter. She wasn’t expected to take it seriously. He didn’t mean it.

It seemed, however, that he hadn’t lost the knack of reading minds, either. Trailing his fingertips along her collarbone he said, ‘Come on Janey, have a little faith.’

She gulped. ‘In what?’

‘Me. You never know, I might just be serious.’

It was what half of her longed to hear. Yet it was nerve-racking too. Relieved to spot the waiter approaching with their bill, she said, ‘You’re never serious.’

‘Never say never.’ Bruno remained unperturbed. ‘Who gave you that necklace anyway?’

‘My husband.’

‘Still miss him?’

Janey opened her mouth to say yes, because that was the standard reply, the one she’d been trotting out for the past eighteen months. But was it still true?

‘Sometimes,’ she amended. ‘It isn’t as unbearable now as it used to be. Whenever anyone said time heals all wounds, I wanted to punch them.’

Bruno grinned. ‘Good.’

‘Why, do you think I should have punched them?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s good that you only miss him sometimes. You’re getting back to normal.’

Right now, Janey wasn’t feeling the least bit normal. She was hopelessly attracted to Bruno and she was sure it wasn’t wise. And since it was by this time almost midnight she wasn’t likely to be feeling too normal when she woke up tomorrow morning either.

‘Here, let me pay half,’ she said, reaching for her handbag as he placed a credit card over the folded bill. She couldn’t bear to think how much such a spectacular dinner must be costing him.

‘Because you don’t think you deserve to be taken out for a decent meal?’ Raising his eyebrows, Bruno gave her a knowing look. ‘Put that purse away, for God’s sake. My name isn’t Alexander Norcross.’

‘Oh help,’ murmured Janey minutes later as they were leaving. Almost wrenching Bruno’s arm out of its socket, she dragged him behind one of the magnificent marble pillars flanking the main entrance to the hotel. ‘That’s my mother over there.’

‘Pity’ Bruno grinned. ‘For a moment I thought my luck was in.’

‘Sshh.’

‘Why the panic anyway?’

‘You don’t know my mother.’ Janey pulled face. ‘She’d interrogate you.’

‘She’s over-protective?’

No, just incurably nosey. Before you knew it, she’d be asking when we were going to get married.’ Edging a cautious inch away from the pillar, she peered across at the man with her mother. ‘I don’t believe it, they’re holding hands! This must be the new chap she was so excited about the other week, the one with the Rolls.’ Really, she thought with a trace of despair; if her mother had taken to frequenting five-star hotels the least she could do was wear a bra. That glossy white shirt was practically transparent.

‘He must be sixty at least,’ said Bruno, watching as they picked up their room key and headed for the lift. Grinning, he added, ‘Isn’t it reassuring to know that old people can still enjoy sex? When I was younger I was always terrified it might stop at thirty.’

‘I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere before,’ whispered Janey, who could only see his profile. ‘I can’t place him, but he definitely looks familiar.’

‘He’s certainly familiar with your mother.’ Bruno’s grin widened as the lift doors slid shut.

‘He’s got his hand inside her shirt. Janey, did you notice that your mother isn’t wearing a bra?’

Chapter 18

Back at Janey’s flat, Bruno pointed out the splash of red wine on the knee of her white jeans.

‘You should soak them in cold water. Go and take them off,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘I’ll make the coffee.’

Janey, standing in the bedroom and gazing at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror, wondered what on earth she was supposed to do now. Slip into something more comfortable?

Lever herself into another pair of jeans and pray the zip would stay up? Envelop herself in her oldest towelling dressing gown and furry slippers, surely the most effective contraceptive known to woman?

By the time she emerged from the bedroom Bruno had made the coffee, switched off the overhead light in the living room in favour of a single table lamp, and mastered the stereo. Ella Fitzgerald was crooning in the background and the cushions had been rearranged on the sofa.

Feeling absurdly self-conscious, Janey sat down at the other end.

‘That’s better.’ He nodded approvingly at her pale pink shorts. ‘You should show off your legs more often.’

Janey immediately wished she’d settled for the dressing gown and slippers after all. When all you were wearing were a pair of shorts, trying to hide your legs was a physical impossibility.

‘They’re fat.’

‘They’re the best legs in Trezale,’ Bruno replied evenly. ‘What you mean is, they aren’t a pair of matchsticks like your sister’s.’ He gave her a sidelong, knowing look. Janey, we’re going to have to do something to get you over this ridiculous complex. You’re a gorgeous girl and you don’t have to compare yourself unfavourably with anyone, least of all Maxine.’

It was nice that he should say so, but the belief was so deeply ingrained that she couldn’t take him seriously. Scatty, extrovert Maxine, forever embroiling herself in drama and emerging unscathed, was the beautiful slender sister to whom all men were drawn like magnets. Janey, hard-working and about as scatty as Margaret Thatcher, was the one best known for the fact that her husband had disappeared without trace. What a riveting claim to fame.

‘Won’t Nina be wondering where you are?’ Compliments embarrassed her anyway. And it was almost . one o’clock.

‘No,’ said Bruno simply. Then his face softened. ‘OK, no more pep talk. Why don’t you just move over here instead?’

When Janey stayed put, he smiled and edged his way slowly towards her instead. ‘Well, if the—‘

‘—mountain won’t come to Mohammed?’ guessed Janey, when he hesitated. ‘That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it? But you thought I’d be offended if you called me a mountain.’

‘Don’t be so silly.’ Bruno slid his arms around her waist. As he pulled her towards him, his mouth brushed her ear. ‘Take it from an expert, sweetheart. You’re not fat. If anyone should be envious of their sister, it’s Maxine.’

It had been so very long since she had last been made love to. It sometimes seemed more like eighteen years than eighteen months and Janey had wondered if she would remember how it was done.

But magically . . . miraculously . . . she was remembering now, and the reality was even more blissful than the memories. Bruno, the self-acknowledged expert, was proving to her that he wasn’t all mouth and no trousers, and she had no complaints at all. She no longer even cared that it was ridiculously late, and that she had to be up early. Just for once, the flowers could wait.

She was having the time of her life and she had no intention of asking him to hurry such delicious proceedings along...

The hammering at the front door downstairs sounded like thunder, making them both jump.

‘What the ... !’ exclaimed Bruno, rolling away from her and cracking his ankle against the leg of the coffee table. ‘Ouch. Bloody hell!’

Janey froze as the hammering started up again. As she scrambled to her feet a loud, authoritative voice from the street below shouted: ‘Open up! Police. This is an emergency.’

‘Oh my God, what is it?’ She stared fearfully at Bruno. Her knees were trembling and all she was wearing was her jewellery.

‘Police. Open up!’ repeated the voice outside.

Running to her bedroom, Janey grabbed her dressing gown and threw it on, fumbling to tie the belt as she made her way downstairs. An emergency could only be a bomb scare or a major gas leak, she thought frantically, her mind whirling as she considered the possibilities. Unless something terrible had happened to Maxine.

As soon as she unlocked the door it crashed open.

‘Surprise!’ yelled Maxine gleefully. Clinging to the arm of one of her companions, who was six and a half feet tall and built like Arnold Schwarzenegger, she ricocheted off the open door and clutched Janey’s shoulder with her free hand.

Before Janey could react, four more men piled through, squeezing themselves into the narrow hallway and chorusing: "Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello, what ‘ave we ‘ere then?’

‘This wallpaper, Constable,’ barked one of them. ‘Arrest it immediately.’

‘What about the dressing gown, Detective Inspector?’ demanded another.

‘Arrest the wallpaper first, Constable. Charge it with being pink.’

‘Aye, aye, sir. And the dressing gown, sir? What shall I charge that with?’

‘Easy peasy,’ yelled Maxine, by this time almost helpless with laughter. ‘Grievous bodily harm!’

Each of the cricketers was over six feet tall. Janey had never felt so small in her life.

‘OK, very funny,’ she said evenly. ‘Now get out.’

‘Can’t get out, only just got in,’ protested the man she had seen at Berenice’s wedding, the one who was with Maxine. Behind him, his even taller friend was solemnly addressing the wall:

‘... but ‘I have to warn you that anything you do say will be taken down and used in evidence.’

‘Out,’ repeated Janey, her voice firm.

‘In-out-in-out, shake it all about,’ chanted the other two. To her absolute horror they were pushing past her, hokey-cokeying towards the stairs.

‘She said you’d make us a cup of coffee,’ explained Maxine’s cricketer with what he no doubt thought was a beguiling grin. ‘Oh come on, Janey, don’t be cross. We won’t stay long. We aren’t really arresting your wallpaper.’

Frantic with worry that any minute now they were going to come face to face with Bruno –

there wasn’t even room for him to hide in her wardrobe – she wrenched the front door open again and glared at Maxine as ferociously as she knew how.

‘No! You’re all drunk and you aren’t getting any coffee. Now leave.’

Maxine, unperturbed by the lack of welcome, simply giggled. ‘Gosh, Janey, has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful when you’re angry? And we’re not drunk, just ... merry. I’ve told you a million times, don’t exaggerate.’

This was awful. Janey considered bursting into tears to show them she meant it.

But Maxine was on a mission and she wasn’t about to allow an unco-operative elder sister to put her off. ‘One quick coffee,’ she insisted, attempting to prise Janey away from the door.

‘Well, one each would be even better. You see, darling, we felt sorry for you ... no man, no social life ... so we thought we’d come and cheer you up. Now isn’t that a kind gesture?’ She broke off, observing Janey’s stony expression, and pouted. ‘Oh cheer up, Janey. You could at least be a teeny bit grateful.’

Janey would have preferred to be a teeny bit violent. The next moment she swung round in panic. The hokeycokeyers, after several wobbly false starts, had actually made it up the staircase.

As she watched them lurch towards the door at the top of the stairs, one of them bawled: ‘Open, sesame!’

And to her horror, it did.

‘I say, what a brilliant trick,’ said Maxine. Then, as Bruno appeared in the doorway, she did a classic double-take. ‘Oh I definitely say! No wonder you didn’t want to let us in. Two’s company, seven’s a crowd. Or an orgy ...’

Bruno’s pink-and-grey striped shirt and grey trousers were only slightly crumpled, and he had combed his hair. Having had time to compose himself, he was also looking amazingly relaxed.

‘I’ve made the coffee,’ he said, meeting Janey’s petrified gaze. ‘But there’s no milk left, so it’ll have to be black.’ Pausing to survey the state of the astonished, bleary-eyed cricketers, he added pointedly, ‘Under the circumstances, maybe it’s just as well.’

‘So now we’re getting down to the nitty gritty,’ crowed Maxine when Bruno had made his excuses and left. The cricketers, having piled into the tiny kitchen, were trying to remember whether or not they took sugar. Maxine, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was avid for details.

‘The secret life of Janey Sinclair! Not only is she having a rip-roaring affair with a practically married man, but she has the confidence to do it in a ten-year-old towelling dressing gown.’

‘I am not having an affair with Bruno.’ Janey struggled to remain calm. If she lost her temper, Maxine would know for sure she’d struck gold. She had to be plausible. ‘If I was,’ she added, improvising rapidly, ‘I wouldn’t be wearing this dressing gown, would I?’

‘Hmm. I wouldn’t put it past you,’ retorted Maxine, still looking deeply suspicious. ‘In that case, why are you wearing it?’

‘We went out for a meal. I spilled red wine on my jeans.’ This, at least, was the truth.

Gesturing towards the bathroom she said, ‘They’re soaking in the basin, if you’d like to check for yourself. Or maybe you’d prefer to send them off to Forensic.’

‘So you went out to dinner and came back here afterwards for a nightcap? You sat here chatting and didn’t notice the time? I’m sorry darling, but I don’t believe you.’

Inwardly close to despair, Janey said. ‘Well you’re just going to have to. Because if I was having an affair with Bruno I’d tell you. But I’m not, so there’s nothing to tell. Got it?’

‘Don’t be-lieve you,’ repeated Maxine in a singsong voice.

‘Oh for God’s sake, it’s the truth! Why can’t you see that?’

Maxine unravelled herself and leaned slowly forwards. ‘Because I’m the untidy sister,’ she said joyfully, ‘and you’re the efficient, organized one.’

‘What?’

Reaching under the sofa, Maxine pulled out the primrose bra which Janey had been wearing earlier and which Bruno had missed when he’d bundled up the rest of her clothes and slung them on the bed. ‘Exhibit number one, m’lud,’ she said, her expression triumphant. ‘And no need for further cross-examination. Leaving items of lacy underwear beneath the settee? Janey, it just isn’t you.’

Chapter 19

Elsie Ellis, who lived above the bakery next door and who thrived on gossip, wasted no time the following morning. Bustling into Janey’s shop with a self-important air and exuding as she always did the aroma of chocolate doughnuts, she was scarcely able to contain her impatience as Janey served the customer who’d beaten her m there by thirty seconds.

The customer was Serena Charlton, looking very chic in a midnight-blue off-the-shoulder tee-shirt, slender white skirt and navy-and-gold shoes. ‘It’s my mother’s birthday tomorrow,’ she explained, flipping a credit card on to the counter. ‘It’s so hard to know what to get them, isn’t it? And I’ve left it rather late. As a matter of fact, it was Maxine who suggested I came to you.’

At the mention of Maxine’s name, Elsie’s chins began to wobble. Janey, steadfastly ignoring her and thinking that putting a bit of business her way was the least Maxine could do to make up for last night, took out her order pad and uncapped a biro.

‘Something around the fifty-pound mark,’ Serena continued vaguely, gazing around the shop in search of inspiration. ‘Oh I don’t know. Flowers aren’t really my thing. Any kind, as long as they’re white.’

Fifty pounds, white, wrote Janey. Lifting her head she said, ‘And the message?’

Serena cast around for further inspiration. Finally, it came. ‘Happy Birthday, Love Serena.’

My word, thought Janey. You ought to write a book.

When Serena had finished reciting her mother’s address she added, ‘Oh yes, I nearly forgot.

Maxine wanted me to ask you how you’re feeling this morning. She mentioned something about a late night.’

Elsie’s chins exploded into life once more. This time she couldn’t control herself. ‘Funny you should mention Maxine,’ she said, dying to know exactly what had happened and equally curious to discover the identity of the glamorous, dark-haired girl. ‘I could hardly believe it when that incredible racket started up at two o’clock this morning. All that hammering on your front door and thumping around ... nearly fell out of bed with the shock of it, I did!’

‘Really?’ Serena looked faintly amused. ‘And what was it?’

Janey, saying nothing, gazed at Elsie.

‘Well, I peeped out of my window.’ Elsie’s chest now swelled with self-importance as she turned to address Serena. ‘It was dark, mind you, and I didn’t have my glasses on, but I could see enough. It was young Maxine herself, with a whole bunch of plain-clothes policemen, and they said it was an emergency. Looked to me like she’d been arrested.’

Janey, who didn’t see why she should have to explain anything, simply gave Elsie an unhelpful smile.

‘So that’s why I felt ‘I should pop round and find out if you were both all right,’ said Elsie, disappointed by the lack of response. ‘It’s only natural, after all, to worry when something like that happens. I just hope Maxine isn’t in any serious trouble.’ she concluded with relish.

‘There’s no need for you to worry about anything,’ Janey assured her, running Serena’s credit card through the machine and giving her the slip to sign. ‘It’s all been sorted out now, and Maxine is fine. It was nice of you, though, to be so concerned.’

Serena watched Elsie leave the shop. ‘Well,’ she said, calmly sliding the credit card back inside an expensive purse, ‘you can say one thing about Maxine.’

Janey could think of several but they weren’t wonderfully polite. Instead she said, ‘What’s that?’ Senena smiled. ‘She certainly lives life to the full.’

When the cricketers had departed to play cricket somewhere in the north of England, Maxine had been briefly despondent. Only briefly, though. The very next day, whilst walking along the beach with Josh and Ella, she had encountered Tom.

‘Bleeeuchh!’ yelled Tom, coming awake with a jolt. Josh, who had been running, had stumbled against an abandoned shoe and inadvertently sent up a fountain of sand. Tom, spitting it out of his mouth, glared at Josh.

‘Gosh, sorry,’ said Josh. ‘I didn’t mean to do it.’

‘It was my fault.’ Maxine, removing her sunglasses, grinned down at the body on the sand.

It was quite the nicest body she’d seen in ... ooh, twenty-four hours. ‘HI hadn’t been chasing him, he wouldn’t have tripped.’

She was wearing a pastel pink bikini and her long, blond hair was tied back with a pink scarf. Tom’s mood improved almost at once.

It doesn’t matter.’ Ruefully wiping his cheek, he said, ‘It’s a long time since anyone kicked sand in my face.’

‘I should think it was.’ Maxine admired his biceps. ‘Do you weight-train?’

‘Three times a week.’ Tom was intensely proud of his physique. ‘Have to,’ he added, because he was also an incurable show-off. ‘When you’re out in the lifeboat it might mean the difference between life and death.’

‘The lifeboat?’ gasped Maxine, playing it to the hilt and deciding that Josh had earned himself an ice cream at the very least. The dazzling smile came into play. ‘Goodness, you must be incredibly brave ...’

But going out to dinner with a man who carried a beeper had its drawbacks. Maxine, who had worked long and hard on Guy in order to wangle another night off, and who had promised to babysit for the next three evenings to make up for it, was dismayed when she realized what was happening: one minute they were in Bruno’s restaurant, about to dive into great bowls of mussels swimming in garlic butter sauce, and the next minute Tom was responding to his beeper as if he’d been stuck with an electric cattle prod.

‘You’re leaving now?’ Maxine stared at him as he leapt up from the table. He could at least stay to finish his first course, surely.

Everyone in the restaurant had by this time turned to stare at the source of the beeping. Tom loved it when that happened. He felt just like Superman.

‘Vessel in distress,’ he said, just loudly enough for them all to hear. Snatching up his car keys he added, ‘Every second counts. Sorry, love. I’ll be in touch.’

That’s what you think, Maxine thought moodily. Whilst she appreciated the urgency of the situation, she still wasn’t happy about it. She’d never been stood up in the middle of dinner before. Even more disturbing, it looked as if she was going to be stuck with the bill.

‘Bugger,’ she said aloud, pouring herself another glass of wine and now wishing she hadn’t chosen such an expensive bottle.

‘Oh dear.’ Bruno materialized at the table as the door swung shut behind Tom. ‘Lovers’

tiff?’

Maxine, poking at the mussels with her fork, gave him a wry smile. ‘Saving lives, apparently, means more to him than my scintillating company and your stupendous food.’

‘Some people have no sense of priority.’

‘If he only knew what a struggle I had, getting the night off,’ she went on with a trace of irritation. ‘I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d thought this might happen. What a waste!’

‘Some people are so selfish,’ Bruno mocked. Interestingly, he observed, she was no longer bothering to flirt with him as she had done on her previous visit. Since discovering him in Janey’s flat, presumably, she had decided he was off-limits.

‘You’d better go and tell the chef to stop cooking the steaks,’ said Maxine. ‘I can’t afford to pay for them as well.’ Gloomily she added, ‘I don’t even have enough cash on me for a taxi home.’

But Bruno was hungry and the Scotch fillets this week were superb. ‘Please,’ he said, in the same wry tone. ‘You’ll have me in tears next. I’ll eat with you, if you like. If you’re good,’ he added with a brief smile, ‘I’ll even give you a lift home.’

If the mussels had been great the steaks au poivre were even better. Maxine, demolishing hers with enthusiasm, soon cheered up. ‘Tell me all about it then,’ she demanded, when the party at the table closest to theirs had left. ‘How long have you been sleeping with Janey? And why on earth was she so desperate to keep this ravishing little item of gossip from me?’

‘I think you’ve just answered that one yourself.’ Bruno raised an eyebrow as he picked up his glass. Janey’s hardly the type to enjoy being an item of gossip.’

‘Oh you know what I mean,’ said Maxine crossly. ‘But she could at least have told me. I’m her sister! It isn’t as if I’d go rushing out, broadcasting the news to all and sundry. I can be discreet, you know. When I have to be.’

Having heard all the lurid tales of Maxine’s past conquests, Bruno didn’t doubt it. But he was more interested right now in discovering whether she really knew why Janey had been so determined to keep their relationship a secret.

‘In that case,’ he said mildly, ‘there must have been other reasons.’

Maxine, however, just looked puzzled. ‘What other reasons?’ she demanded. ‘Your girlfriend? Her absent husband? She could still have told me.’

‘Don’t be dense,’ sighed Bruno. ‘You’re the reason she didn’t want to tell you.’

‘What?’

‘You make her insecure. She thinks you’re more attractive than she is,’ he said bluntly. ‘On her own, she’s fine. When she’s with you, she loses all faith in herself.’

Maxine looked appalled. ‘You mean she doesn’t trust me?’

She genuinely hadn’t known. Bruno smiled slightly. ‘I don’t know, maybe I’m the one she doesn’t trust. I don’t have the greatest reputation in the world ...’

‘And that’s why she didn’t want us to meet in the first place,’ said Maxine, her tone thoughtful. ‘She thought you might prefer me.’

‘Of course she did.’ With a trace of exasperation, Bruno said, ‘I can’t believe it’s never occurred to you. How can you not notice something like that?’

‘Easy.’ She drained her glass and inspected the bottle. ‘I’m selfish and thoughtless, aren’t I?’

‘So what are you going to do now?’

‘That’s easy, too.’ She smiled. ‘See if I can’t persuade you to open another bottle of wine.’

As he drove her back to Trezale House, Maxine said, ‘You still haven’t told me how long it’s been going on.’

‘You mean how long I’ve been sleeping with your sister?’ There was a note of irony in his voice. ‘Why don’t you ask Janey?’

Maxine shrugged. ‘She isn’t speaking to me at the moment.’

‘And I’m not telling you,’ said Bruno. With a sideways glance in her direction, he added,

‘There, doesn’t that prove how discreet I can be?’

‘It certainly proves how bloody infuriating you can be.’ Peering into the darkness ahead, she said, ‘Next turning on the left, just past that big tree. I know you didn’t believe me earlier, but I can keep the odd secret ... no, I said next left.’

Bruno, who knew the country lanes well, ignored her. A couple of hundred yards further along the road he turned the car into a gateway.

‘This isn’t next left,’ said Maxine, as he switched off the ignition.

‘We haven’t finished talking yet. There’s something I’m curious about.’

‘What’s that?’

The sky was inky black and sprinkled with stars, but the moon was almost full. The darkness wasn’t total; she could see Bruno’s white shirt and green eyes. She could also see that he was smiling.

‘I’ve told you what Janey was afraid of,’ he said in conversational tones. ‘But you haven’t asked me whether or not she was right.’

‘Oh.’ Maxine thought for a moment, aware of what he might be leading up to. ‘OK then.

Was she?’

Janey’s an attractive girl.’ Bruno shrugged. ‘Who needs her self-confidence building up.’

‘I think you already know how attractive you are.’ Maxine half-smiled. ‘But when you first saw me, did you like me more than you like Janey?’

‘I like you both, very much,’ he said slowly. ‘But you and I are more alike. We understand each other. And as I said before, I’m very discreet.’

Maxine didn’t bother to look surprised. Bruno Parry-Brent was every bit as unscrupulous as she had suspected. They might be alike in many ways, she thought, but even she wasn’t that two-faced. ‘I see,’ she murmured, pushing back her hair with her fingers. ‘You mean, what Janey doesn’t know about won’t hurt her?’

‘Exactly. You said you could keep a secret when you had to.’ His smile broadened, his teeth gleaming white in the darkness. It had evidently not even crossed his mind that she might turn him down. ‘It could be fun. A lot of fun. You and I.’

Charisma was a powerful aphrodisiac, and Bruno had more than his fair share of it. He really was amazingly attractive, thought Maxine. But then he had to be. Only men at the very top of the league in the attractiveness stakes could expect to get away with this kind of thing. And most of the time, presumably, they did.

Wishing, now, that she hadn’t worn four-inch heels -although at least she was only a quarter of a mile from home - she ran her hand lightly over the soft leather upholstery.

‘Do these seats go right back?’

Bruno grinned. ‘All the way.’

‘Hmm,’ said Maxine. ‘Somehow I thought they would.’

‘Where are you going?’ he protested as she opened the passenger door and climbed out of the car.

Yuk, thought Maxine as her heels sank into three inches of mud. So this was her reward for making a noble stand. No wonder she’d never bothered in the past.

‘Home,’ she said, her tone brisk. ‘I realize this may come as a bit of a shock to you, but you aren’t totally irresistible. And if you really want to know, I think you’re a complete shit.’

‘Maxine—’

‘Poor Janey,’ she continued, slamming the door shut and addressing him through the open window. ‘What chance does she have, falling for a two-faced bastard like you?’

‘OK,’ said Bruno, making calm-down gestures with his hands. ‘I get the message.’

‘And here’s another message,’ Maxine snapped. ‘I may not be perfect, but did you seriously think I’d play a dirty trick like that on my own sister?’

Bruno sighed good-naturedly, ‘Spare me the moral lecture. It was just a suggestion, after all. Some girls would take it as a compliment.’

‘My God, you’re amoral!’

‘And you’re some kind of saint?’ Bruno was grinning once more. ‘Come on now, there’s no need to make this much of a fuss. All you had to do was say no.’

‘I don’t care about me,’ Maxine said icily. ‘I care about Janey. You’re going to hurt her.’

‘I’m rehabilitating her,’ he protested. ‘Where’s the harm in that? I haven’t made any false promises.’

‘You’re just incredible.’ She shot him a look of disdain. ‘When I tell Janey what you’ve said to me tonight ...’

‘Now that really would hurt her,’ said Bruno reasonably.

Maxine, who had already worked that out for herself, glared at him. She knew she couldn’t tell Janey but she still didn’t see why Bruno should escape scot-free.

‘Come on, sweetheart,’ he said again, patting the seat beside him. ‘No hard feelings. Now you’ve got that little outburst out of your system, I’ll drive you home.’

Maxine, however, hoisted the strap of her evening bag over her shoulder and shook her head. ‘I’d rather walk.’

‘Why?’

Because I’ve just dropped an opened bottle of traffic-light-red nail polish on to the passenger seat, thought Maxine, still gazing at him through the wound-down window. And I don’t want to get it all over my nice white skirt. Explain that one away to your girlfriend tomorrow morning, sweetheart.

‘I’d just rather walk,’ she said, straightening up and stepping away from the car. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be safe.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ murmured Bruno, realizing that he had well and truly blown it and switching on the ignition once more. Well and truly, he mused as he reversed out of the muddy gateway. And what on earth was that peculiar smell ... ?

Chapter 20

Oliver enjoyed watching Thea at work in her studio. Never having considered himself a suitable candidate for retirement, taking it easy for the first time in forty years had come as a pleasant surprise. Now, with the sun streaming through the windows and nothing to do but relax, he found it extraordinarily soothing simply to sit and admire her skill.

And Thea was such good company, too. She didn’t indulge in idle gossip. If she had something worth saying, she said it. If she didn’t, she kept quiet. As far as Oliver was concerned, the companionable silences, together with her down-to-earth attitudes and innate sensuality, made her about as perfect as any woman could be. Now that he had found her, he had absolutely no intention of letting her go.

‘I wish you’d marry me,’ he said, but all Thea did was smile and reach into the bucket beside her to rinse her hands.

‘I thought you might have learned your lesson by now’ Each of his three ex-wives had squealed with delight when he had proposed, the pound signs glowing practically neon in their eyes as they accepted. Thea, however, calmly continued to fashion a jawline from clay, studying it intently as a cloud passed over the sun, altering the shadows on the semi-constructed face.

Moving over to where she sat, Oliver stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. ‘They were the wrong women. You’re the right one. Thea, you know how I feel about you.’

She knew, she knew. And if she had been young and foolish she would have married him in a flash, as recklessly as she’d once married Patrick. But independence was sweet, and learning both to achieve and enjoy it had taken half a lifetime. Thea was superstitious enough to believe that if she married Oliver their relationship would be spoiled. Furthermore, like snakes and ladders, she would then be forced to start all over again .. .

‘I do know how you feel about me,’ she said, tilting her head and smiling up at him. ‘And I love you, darling. But we’re allowed to feel this way. We don’t need a vicar to give us permission.’

‘I want us to be together,’ he protested. ‘Properly together.’

‘And you think a silly scrap of paper would do the trick?’ She leaned back, sounding amused. ‘I’m not going to say yes, Oliver. I’ll be your mistress but I won’t be your wife. Just think, people might call me Mrs Kennedy the fourth. I’d end up feeling like the consolation prize in a raffle.’

She was always doing that, getting his name wrong. ‘Cassidy,’ he corrected her with mock severity.

‘Of course.’ Thea grinned, then looked puzzled. ‘Why is that name so familiar?’

‘It belongs to the man who wants to marry you. If you weren’t so bloody obstinate, it could be your name!’ Faintly exasperated, he added, ‘Then you’d have to remember it.’

But her expression had cleared. ‘Of course. Guy Cassidy, the photographer. That’s the chap my younger daughter works for. You’ve probably heard of him, darling ... I believe he’s rather famous.’

‘Ah.’ Oliver, who had been waiting for some time for her to make the connection, realized he may as well get it over with. Clasping Thea’s hand in his, he took a deep breath. ‘As a matter of fact, I have heard of him ...’

‘One question,’ said Thea, when he had finished. Was I part of this plan? Did you know I was Maxine’s mother when you came into the studio that day?’

No.’ Oliver shook his head. ‘You definitely weren’t part of the plan. Just a glorious, unexpected bonus.’

Thea smiled, satisfied he was speaking the truth. ‘That’s all right then, and I suppose you’d rather I didn’t mention any of this to Maxine?’

‘It might be best.’ He kissed her teasingly on the forehead. ‘Not until the wedding, at least.’

‘How have the children been?’ asked Guy, sitting down at the kitchen table and watching Maxine wash up. Serena had left for a fashion shoot in Barcelona and he’d spent the day in London after seeing her off at Heathrow.

‘Wonderful.’ Maxine, immeasurably cheered by Serena’s departure, grinned at him. ‘I took them to the supermarket this morning. When we got back here I found a packet of Jellytots in Ella’s pocket. I felt like Fagin.’ Guy frowned. ‘I hope you told her off.’

‘Told her off? I stood in front of her and ate every last one. And I’ve told her that next week she has to go back, apologize to the manager and hand over two weeks’ pocket money. If she’s lucky he won’t send her to prison.’

‘She won’t do that again in a hurry, then.’ He looked amused.

‘She won’t speak to me again in a hurry either,’ said Maxine. ‘According to Ella, it was my fault for not allowing her to buy any Jellytots in the first place.’

Guy rose to his feet and picked up a tea towel. When he started drying the plates she’d washed, Maxine knew at once something was up.

‘But they do speak to you,’ he said, his tone casual. ‘Tell me, what do they think of Serena?’

Uh oh. It hadn’t escaped Maxine’s notice that Serena had arrived with four suitcases and only left with two. She might have known she shouldn’t get her hopes up. ‘Why? Are you thinking of marrying her?’

‘I’m just interested in hearing anything you may have picked up,’ said Guy.

Serena had stuck up for her, Maxine remembered, when he had bawled her out over the Oliver Cassidy incident. She’d also given her a Monopoly board-sized box of expensive makeup, an unwanted gift which she said she’d never use. In her own vague way, Maxine supposed, she wasn’t really that bad. Not scintillating, but bearable.

‘They think she’s OK,’ she replied, washing a teaspoon with care. ‘They don’t dislike her, anyway. She doesn’t really talk to them that much.’

Guy raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that it?’

Maxine handed him the teaspoon. ‘As far as Josh is concerned, most of your girlfriends go so far over the top they’re practically in orbit. At least Serena doesn’t do that. She doesn’t gush over them.’

‘Hmm.’ He paused, then said, ‘And how about you?’ She gave him an innocent look. ‘I don’t gush either.’

‘What’s your opinion of Serena?’

He wasn’t being very fair. If she said anything remotely bitchy it could only go against her.

With a trace of resentment, Maxine said, ‘Why are you asking me? My opinion hardly counts.

You’re old enough to make up your own mind about whether or not you like her.’ Furthermore, she thought grumpily, she couldn’t for the life of her understand why he should be so apparently taken with Serena and so uninterested in herself.

‘I know.’ There was a glimmer of a smile on his face. ‘I have. But it is going to affect you.

Serena’s sold her flat in London and she’s going to be moving in with us when she gets back from Barcelona.’

Oh hell, thought Maxine. If Guy and Serena were going to play happy families, did that mean she was out of a job? Aloud, she said, ‘Permanently?’

He shrugged. ‘We’ll see how it goes. She was looking at other flats, but completion on her own went through more quickly than expected, so it seemed an appropriate time to ... well, try it.’

Maxine turned, gave him a look and said nothing.

‘I know, it’s hardly the romantic gesture of the decade,’ hedged Guy, ‘but it’s tricky, with the children ... I just don’t want to make any mistakes.’

‘And what do Josh and Ella think of all this?’ she countered. ‘They haven’t said anything about it to me.’

‘I’m speaking to them this evening.’ He smiled. ‘I asked you first.’

‘What for, my permission?’

‘Your opinion.’

Maxine dried her hands on a tea towel. ‘Don’t their opinions matter?’

‘Of course they do,’ Guy retorted. ‘If they really couldn’t handle it, Serena wouldn’t move in. And this isn’t a cue,’ he added severely, ‘for you to put the boot in behind my back.’

She kept a straight face. ‘Would I?’

‘Of course you would.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s why I’m saying don’t even think of it. This is important to me.’

Me too, thought Maxine. Leaning against the sink and folding her arms she said mildly, ‘If Serena’s moving in, does that mean you won’t need me any more?’

‘Good God, of course not!’ Guy looked astonished. ‘Is that what you thought? No, Serena has her career .. . she travels abroad more often than I do. You’d still be needed to look after the children.’ He paused, then added, ‘If anything, I was more concerned that you might decide to leave.’

It was the nicest thing he’d ever said to her, Maxine decided. Heavens, it was practically a full-scale compliment. ‘Does that mean you really want me to stay?’ she said, milking the situation for all it was worth.

But Guy wasn’t that easily fooled. ‘The children do,’ he replied neatly. ‘But then they don’t know about the incident the other night outside your sister’s flat.’

‘Oh, but I hadn’t really been arrested—’

‘I know.’ He looked amused. ‘I’m just saying there isn’t much point in fishing for compliments. There’s such a thing as pushing your luck too far.’

‘If you want to marry someone, why don’t you marry Maxine?’ said Ella, as if that solved the problem. ‘Then Serena wouldn’t need to move in.’

Guy tried to imagine what was going on in her seven-year-old mind. Ella’s memories of her mother were becoming sketchy. She had been cared for by nannies – first Berenice, now Maxine

– for over three years.

‘I’m not marrying Serena,’ he replied carefully. ‘We just thought it might be nice if she came to live here.’

Ella frowned. ‘But she’s your girlfriend. Does that mean she’d be sort of like a mummy?’

Guy didn’t know the answer to that. In darker moments during the past year or two when other people had made pointed comments and guilt had mingled with the weight of parental responsibility, he had wondered whether he should simply find himself a wife, a suitable stepmother for the children, and stop waiting for it to happen. It, he thought, was taking its time.

Love didn’t grow on trees.There had been more than enough willing candidates, God knows, but the ones who would have made ideal stepmothers had never captured his interest and those with whom he had become briefly involved had on the whole been wildly unsuited for the task.

And it was a hell of a task for any woman; he knew that. But of all of them, at least Serena had had the guts to be honest with him from the start. Young children weren’t something she was familiar with. She was sure Josh and Ella were perfectly nice but if he didn’t mind she’d prefer to take her time getting to know them. Besides, she had added, who knew how their own relationship would work out? There didn’t seem much point in getting too emotionally involved with the kids if all they ended up doing was splitting up. That would only cause them more unnecessary pain.

It might be a pessimistic attitude, but it was practical. Guy was willing to give it a go. Just because he had fallen in love with Véronique within minutes of meeting her didn’t mean it always had to happen that way. Maybe this time with Serena, it would simply unfold at a gradual pace.

Ella, wearing pale pink pyjamas and Mickey Mouse slippers, was curled up beside him on the sofa. Reaching for the doll she had been playing with earlier she began replaiting its blond nylon hair.

‘No, Serena’s just ... Serena,’ said Guy cautiously, in reply to her question. ‘She’s a friend.’

‘So we aren’t going to be a whole family?’ Ella gazed up at him, eyes serious.

He gestured towards Josh, sitting on the floor in front of them. ‘The three of us are a family, sweetheart. You know that.’

‘Serena’s just Dad’s girlfriend.’ It was Josh’s turn to explain the situation to his young sister. ‘She isn’t part of our family because she isn’t related to us. The only way she can get related is if Dad married her, but even thenshe’d only be a distant relation.’ Glancing at Guy for confirmation, he added cheerfully, ‘Like that man who gave us the money the other week, our grandfather. He’s a distant relation too. It means they can buy you presents but they aren’t allowed to tell you off.’

Guy hesitated, then nodded. This particular matter had yet to be sorted out. All he’d got so far each time he’d attempted to call his father was the answering machine.

Ella, however, brightened. ‘He was nice! When are we going to see him again?’

‘I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ll have to see. Now, are you happy about Serena moving in?

Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind. As long as she isn’t allowed to tell us off.’

‘That’s what Maxine does,’ said Josh earnestly. ‘It’s her job.’

Ella finished fiddling with the doll’s springy hair. ‘And teaching me how to do plaits,’ she said with pride. ‘Daddy, will Serena sleep in the same bed as you when she starts living here?’

Guy nodded once more. For the sake of appearances, Serena had been occupying the guest room for the past week. From now on, however, the subterfuge was going to have to come to an end. ‘Yes sweetheart, she will.’

‘Poor Serena,’ said Ella with a sigh. ‘She’s really going to hate it when you snore.’

Chapter 21

The trouble with liking the sound of someone from the letter they had written in reply to an advert, Janey decided, was that it didn’t tell you everything about them. Certain vital details only emerged later, when it was too late to say you’d changed your mind after all and that although you hadn’t even got to know them yet you just knew it wasn’t going to work out.

If James Blair had only mentioned in passing that he had a laugh like a donkey on helium, for example, she would have crossed him off her list faster than you could say snort. As it was, he only hit her with the awful reality of it after introducing himself in person, in the foyer of the theatre where they had arranged to meet prior to seeing a play in which his sister had a starring role.

He wasn’t afraid to use it either. To her dismay, Janey realized that the play was billed as a comedy. All James had done so far was buy her a gin and tonic prior to curtain-up, and he’d laughed five times already. Everyone was turning to stare. One poor woman, standing unsuspectingly with her back to him, was so startled by the incredible noise that she’d spilled her drink down her blouse. It was a loud laugh that erupted abruptly, exploded out of all control and didn’t know when to stop. If James Blair had wanted to forewarn her about it in his letter, he could have described it as: Bleugh-huuu ... eek ... bleugghh-huuu ... eek eek eek ...

blaaaahhhuuuhuuu ... eek. Now she was stuck with it for the next ninety minutes at the very least. She didn’t know which was worse, the sound of the laugh or the curiosity and barely concealed amusement of every other theatre-goer within earshot.

I’m a shallow, spineless person, Janey reprimanded herself, and James is probably a very kind man. Just because he doesn’t laugh like other people, there is absolutely no reason at all to wish I was anywhere in the world but here.

But it was no good. James was still laughing, people were still staring and the play, now due to start in less than three minutes, was described in her programme as ‘rip-roaring, rib-tickling, fun, fun, fun!’

‘Marvellous play,’ declared James, taking her arm in order to steer her back towards the bar when it was over. ‘I can’t remember when I last enjoyed myself so much. Didn’t you think it was marvellous, Janey?’

‘It’s awfully late.’ Damp patches of perspiration had formed under Janey’s arms; she could feel them as she glanced at her watch. ‘I really think I should be making a move.’

‘Oh, but I told my sister we’d meet her for a drink after the show. You can stay for another ten minutes, surely?’

He looked so crestfallen she hadn’t the heart to refuse. He wasn’t her type, but he was undeniably decent.

‘OK,’ she heard herself saying out of sheer guilt, ‘just a quick drink. Then I’m afraid I really will have to leave.’

‘Jolly good!’ James beamed, his boyish face alight with such enthusiasm that she felt guilty all over again. If she hadn’t been feeling so ashamed of herself she would never have allowed him to slide his arm in a proprietorial manner around her waist. ‘What’ll you have then, a quick gin? Or a slow one? Sloe gin ... geddit? Bleugh-huuu . . . eek... bleugghh-huuu ... eek eek ...’

Janey could have died on the spot when she saw Guy Cassidy ahead of her at the bar. All evening she’d been consoling herself with the thought that at least she hadn’t bumped into anyone she recognized. It might be shallow and spineless of her, but it was a comfort nevertheless. Or it had been, up until now.

‘Hello, Janey.’ Breaking off his conversation with a balding middle-aged man, he turned and smiled at her. Perspiration prickled once more beneath her arms and down her spine as for a fraction of a second his gaze flickered to James, still caught up in the throes of his own unfunny joke.

Feeling sicker than ever, because he was also bound to relay every detail to Maxine, Janey made an effort to return his smile. ‘Guy, what a surprise!’

‘I know,’ he replied with mock solemnity. ‘I don’t make a habit of visiting the theatre but I’d heard such great things about this production ...’

‘What he means,’ explained his balding companion, ‘is that he was dragged here against his will because we’ve been friends for years and I happen to be the play’s director. I told him he had to suffer first if he wanted dinner afterwards.’

Guy grinned. ‘I felt like a girl out on a blind date.’

Janey felt herself go scarlet. James, who had been listening to the exchange with interest, guffawed. ‘Like a girl out on a blind date? Oh I say, that’s jolly funny, bleughhuuu ... eek eek eek ...’

‘Why don’t you like me?’ said Serena suddenly.

Guy was upstairs saving goodnight to Josh and Ella. Maxine, who was busy stuffing clothes into the washing machine, hadn’t even realized she was no longer alone in the kitchen. She looked up, surprised.

‘Who says I don’t like you?’

‘I’m not stupid,’ said Serena calmly. Pulling out a chair, she sat down and examined her perfect fingernails. Maxine, who thought that anyone capable of spending one and a half hours buffing and manicuring their nails had to be stupid, didn’t reply.

‘Is it envy?’

‘I don’t dislike you,’ Maxine protested, because the situation was bordering on the embarrassing. She half smiled. ‘And no, I’m not envious. I’ve always liked being five feet six and blond.’

‘I’m used to being envied for my looks.’ As if to prove it, Serena ran a hand through her sleek dark hair then fixed her unswerving gaze on Maxine, who was still kneeling on the floor with a box of Persil in one hand and an armful of Ella’s socks in the other. ‘But that isn’t what I meant.’ Slowly she added, ‘I’m talking about Guy.’

‘Guy!’

‘He’s an attractive man,’ Serena smiled slightly. ‘Please, Maxine. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed.’

‘And you think I’m jealous because you’re living with him,’ cried Maxine, outraged. This was too much. Of course Guy was attractive, but the fact that she had been secretly lusting after him for weeks didn’t even enter into it. If Serena hadn’t been so distant and stand-offish from day one, things might have been different. If, Maxine thought crossly, she’d made even the slightest attempt to fit in, it might have helped – regardless of her own small crush on Guy. But Serena, it appeared, had eyes only for Guy and no interest at all in either his children or herself.

Maxine knew only too well that she wasn’t the most likely nanny in the world but she’d grown extremely fond of Josh and Ella, who were friendly, cheerful and endlessly entertaining.

Serena’s persistent and total disregard for them, she now felt, was downright weird.

‘Yes, I think you’re jealous.’ Serena picked up and investigated a half-full cup of tepid coffee.

If she asked me to make a fresh pot, thought Maxine, she’ll get it over her head.

‘Well you couldn’t be more wrong!’ she snapped back. ‘OK, he might not look like Quasimodo, but as far as I’m concerned Guy Cassidy is irritable, moody and not a great deal of fun to work with. I came here because I wanted to stay inTrezale and I needed a job.’ Shovelling the last of the laundry into the washing machine – which ran a lot more smoothly now that her spare set of car keys had been removed from the outer drum – she added crossly, ‘And if I was really interested in chasing after your boyfriend, you’d know about it.’

Serena merely raised an immaculate eyebrow. ‘No need to lose your temper,’ she observed, her tone mild. ‘Maxine, I don’t want us to be enemies. What I’m trying to say is that if you are interested in Guy, I can understand that. Personally, I’d be amazed if you weren’t.’

‘Well I’m not,’ lied Maxine. Serena sounded like a benevolent schoolmistress; the urge to act like a five-year-old and stick out her tongue was almost overwhelming.

‘All right.’ Serena, looking more tolerant then ever, said soothingly, ‘We’ll leave it at that then, shall we? ‘I truly didn’t mean to upset you, Maxine; all I was going to say was that if you were hoping some kind of relationship might develop, well ... I’m afraid it isn’t really on the cards.’

This was getting crazier by the minute. Maxine, shaking with suppressed rage, spoke through clenched teeth. What?’

‘I discussed the matter with Guy,’ explained Serena, unperturbed. ‘He told me that you absolutely weren’t his type.’

Chapter 22

The cliff path leading down to the cove was stony and narrow but worth the effort. The beaches at the heart of Trezale would, at eight o’clock in the evening, still be overrun by holidaymakers, whereas Shell Cove, on the outskirts of the town, was virtually empty. Few people could he bothered to stray the mile or so from the shops and bars; fewer still could face the prospect, at high tide, of clambering back up the steeply sloping track to the road at the top of the cliff.

Which was really just as well, thought Janey, since it enabled Maxine to rant and rave as loudly as she liked without fear of alarming the tourists.

‘... so Serena said, "We’ll say no more about it,"‘ Maxine spat furiously, continuing the monologue which had started 300 feet up, ‘and walked out of the kitchen. I had plenty more to bloody say about it, I can tell you!’

‘But you couldn’t tell her so you’re telling me instead.’

They had reached the bottom; rocks and crumbling gravel gave way to fine dry sand. Janey removed her shoes and wiggled her toes in its delicious warmth.

‘Damn right I’m telling you,’ said Maxine, pushing her hair away from her face with an indignant gesture. ’It’s the only way to make sure I don’t explode. The bloody nerve of that woman!’

‘She was right, though.’ Janey, who hadn’t completely forgiven her sister yet for barging into the flat the other week, couldn’t resist pointing it out. ‘You are after Guy.’

‘Not any more.’ Maxine’s dark eyes glittered with disdain. Then, catching Janey’s sidelong glance, she added forcefully, ‘And it isn’t because Serena says he isn’t interested, either. I wouldn’t have anything to do with a man who had anything to do with her. I can’t for the life of me imagine what he even sees in her, anyway.’

‘We’ve been through this before,’ Janey pointed out. ‘Perfect face, perfect body ...’

‘Oh that!’ Maxine threw her a look of derision. ‘Physically, she’s perfection on a sodding stick. But mentally she’s nothing, no personality whatsoever. Half the time it’s like trying to hold a conversation with a bowl of fruit.’

‘You mean she isn’t temperamental.’ Janey grinned. ‘Like you.’

‘I mean I’ve never seen her laugh,’ snapped Maxine, aiming a kick at a heap of seaweed.

‘Josh was telling her jokes yesterday and I swear she didn’t even get them. And then she has the nerve to discuss me with Guy, for God’s sake!’

Janey was struggling to hide her amusement. ‘At least that means they have conversations.’

‘But you should have heard the way she said it,’ howled Maxine. Kicking a bundle of seaweed along the shoreline was no longer enough; picking up the largest pebble within reach she hurled it into the sea. ‘She was so bloody superior and all the time I was having to bite my tongue because she thinks that now she’s moved in with Guy she’s home and dry. Except that I know,’ she added darkly, ‘what he’s really been getting up to whilst she’s away.’

‘Oh?’ This was more like it, Janey, whose attention had begun to wander, looked interested.

‘Exactly,’ Maxine declared with an air of triumph. ‘Those other women of his haven’t given up on him yet. They still phone up, and he didn’t come home onTuesday night until gone three. That would wipe the smirk off Serena’s face, if she only knew’

Tuesday, thought Janey. That was when she had bumped into him at the theatre. Innocently she asked, ‘Why, who was he with?’

‘Which particular female, you mean?’ countered Maxine, her voice awash with sarcasm.

‘Well, it was one of them, and that’s all that matters. When I asked Guy he told me it was none of my business and not to be so damn nosey, so I knew he’d been up to no good.’

If Guy had walked out of the sea at that moment, Janey would have thrown her arms around him and covered him with kisses. Tempted though she’d been to beg him not to mention their chance meeting to Maxine, she hadn’t had the nerve to do so. But Guy hadn’t said a word about it anyway. Her shameful secret was safe.

‘Maybe there’s an innocent explanation,’ she suggested cheerfully, but that wasn’t what Maxine wanted to hear.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Seizing another pebble and tossing it into the waves, she almost decapitated a passing seagull. ‘Taking his side all of a sudden? Give me a break, Janey –

he has more women than he knows whatto do with and he was hardly going to spend the night playing Monopoly. The man’s about as innocent as Warren Beatty, and the least he could do is have the decency to let me in on the agenda. After all, I’m glad he’s seeing somebody else.

Anyone’s better than that smug bitch Serena.’

‘Perhaps he thinks you might run off and tell her,’ said Janey.

‘If I thought it would get rid of her, and if it didn’t mean risking my job,’ Maxine replied crossly, ‘I bloody would!’

As children they had always taken the same route around the cove. Now, reaching the rock pools, they made their way across the slippery boulders to their favourite pool, the one that always contained the most interesting wildlife and which provided two comfortable seats worn into the rock by centuries of tides.

Maxine, having finally run out of invective, dabbled her bare feet in the sun-warmed water, and watched two miniature crabs skitter out of the way in alarm. ‘You haven’t been very sympathetic,’ she grumbled, casting a sidelong glance at Janey’s fuchsia toenails. ‘What’s the matter, are you still mad because we invaded your flat and spoiled your fun with Bruno?’

It was the first time the subject had been mentioned. Janey had been waiting for it to come up. She had also decided that there was no longer any point in holding back. ‘Don’t worry,’ she replied cheerfully, ‘we’ve made up for it since then.’

‘Oh. So you’re still seeing him.’

Maxine sounded disappointed. This had to be a first for her, thought Janey with a flicker of triumph. Two attractive men, neither of them the least bit interested in ever-popular, oh-so-irresistible Maxine Vaughan. Not what she was used to at all.

‘I am,’ she said with pride.

Now it was Janey’s turn to be annoyed. ‘Such enthusiasm,’ she snapped. ‘You were the one who nagged me to find myself a man, and now I have. Couldn’t you at least pretend to be pleased?’

Maxine sighed. Although diplomacy had never been one of her strong points, she recognized that she would have to tread with care. ‘But he’s somebody else’s man,’ she said, her tone even. ‘Janey, is this wise? What about the girl he’s living with?’

Janey’s mouth narrowed. This was rich; couldn’t-careless Maxine was giving her a moral lecture. Talk about double standards.

‘Look, Nina knows what he’s like and she accepts it. If she doesn’t mind, why should I?’

‘Oh, so you’ve asked her.’ Maxine threw her a challenging stare.

‘Of course I haven’t asked her.’ Beginning to feel cornered, Janey retaliated crossly, ‘And I can’t believe I’m hearing this holier-than-thou rubbish from someone who once had an affair with a man because she’d "forgotten" he was married!’

‘That was me,’ said Maxine, forcing herself to keep calm. ‘I’m different. But darling, sneaking around with a married man simply isn’t your style. You’re too nice ...’

‘Bruno isn’t married.’

This was Janey’s mantra, the phrase with which she endlessly comforted herself in order to justify her actions. Of course the situation wasn’t ideal, of course she wasn’t proud of herself, but at least Bruno was not married.

‘She’s his common-law wife,’ Maxine continued remorselessly. ‘They’ve been together for years.’ Then she softened. ‘Oh Janey, that isn’t why I’m against it. I just don’t want you to end up getting hurt, and I’m so afraid you will. Bruno isn’t your type of man. He’s—’

‘You mean he’s your type,’ Janey countered bitterly. ‘And you don’t want me to have fun.

Well I’ve spent the last twenty months not having any fun and I’m not going to go back to that again. I like Bruno and he likes me. A lot.’

For the first times their rôles had been reversed. Maxine, struggling to keep her older sister on the straight and narrow, and to prevent her from being hurt, realized that she wasn’t making a roaring success of the operation. It wasn’t as simple, she thought ruefully, as Janey had always made it look. But if she told her exactly what Bruno had suggested the other night she would only splatter Janey’s fragile self-confidence and probably lose her friendship into the bargain.

Hell, it was hard being a good guy.

‘I’m sure he likes you,’ she said cautiously. ‘But I still don’t think he’s the right man for you, sweetheart.’

‘Stop it!’ Janey had had enough. With a look of disdain she rose to her feet. ‘I know it’s come as a shock to the system but you’re just going to have to face up to it. Bruno prefers me.

And you’re jealous.’

* * *

Life at the moment, Maxine decided, wasn’t being very fair. Returning to Trezale House, she ran into Guy at the foot of the stairs.

‘I’ve been trying to work,’ he said, gesturing with a handful of contact prints in the direction of the darkroom, ‘and the bloody phone keeps ringing. Someone called Bruno has rung three times asking to speak to you. He wants you to phone him back as soon as possible.’

Serena’s car was parked on the driveway outside. Glancing at it through the hall window, Maxine said, ‘Can’t Serena answer the telephone?’

‘She’s in the bath.’

Josh and Maxine had taken to laying bets on the duration of Serena’s famous baths. The longest so far had been an hour and forty minutes. Maxine hoped Josh was upstairs, timing this one. Keeping a straight face, she said, ‘Oh, right.’

‘She also tells me that you lost your temper with her this afternoon.’

Maxine’s dark eyes flashed. ‘And did she happen to mention why?’

Guy nodded. For a moment she thought she detected a glimmer of a smile.

‘OK, maybe she went a bit far but there was still no need for you to fly off the handle like that. We all have to make allowances if we’re going to get on together.’

‘Nobody else does,’ Maxine retorted sulkily. ‘I don’t see why I should have to be the one who makes all the allowances around here.’

‘You aren’t the only one,’ he countered, his tone brisk. ’I’ve answered the phone three times this evening, haven’t I? And I’m passing on the message, even though I don’t approve of what you’re up to.’

‘What I’m up to?’ She looked astonished. ‘Tell me, what am I up to?’

‘Oh come on,’ Guy drawled. ‘It isn’t too difficult to figure out. Bruno, I presume, is Bruno Parry-Brent. I might not know him that well, but I’ve heard enough to know what he’s like. And now he’s panting down the phone after you. Or as near as dammit.’

‘It’s none of your business why he’s ringing up,’ Maxine countered furiously.

‘Of course it isn’t. I just thought you might have had a bit more sense than to get involved with a married man. He’s hardly ringing up to check table reservations, is he?’

‘He isn’t married,’ hissed Maxine.This was ridiculous, now she sounded like Janey. ‘And I’m not involved with him! I don’t even like the man.’

‘Oh please.’ At this, Guy rolled his eyes. ‘If they’re male, you like them. If they’re female, Bruno likes them. Let’s face it Maxine, the two of you are a perfectly matched pair.’

‘Come out with me tomorrow night,’ said Bruno.

‘No, I don’t want to go out with you tomorrow night.’ Maxine, who had deliberately waited until Guy was in the room before returning Bruno’s call, spoke the words slowly and clearly. For good measure she added, ‘Or any other night. Bruno, I’ve told you before; I’m just not interested.’

‘I know.’ He sounded amused. ‘But I am. And the harder you play to get, the more interested I become.’

Maxine shot a triumphant glance at Guy, who was reading the paper and eating the children’s Jaffa cakes. ‘The answer’s still no.’

Guy, apparently engrossed in his horoscope, didn’t react.

At the other end of the line Bruno laughed. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you that the saintly act doesn’t suit you? Come on now, you owe me one night out at least. Have you any idea how much it cost me to get the nail varnish cleaned off that car seat?’

‘Serves you right,’ said Maxine briskly. And no, I don’t owe you anything. If you’re so determined to go out tomorrow night I suggest you take Nina.’

Guy ate another Jaffa cake.

‘She’s gone to stay with her sister in Kent.’

Maxine almost blurted out: ‘Take Janey, then, instead,’ though why she should bother to protect her gullible sister’s reputation from Guy she didn’t know. Instead, she said smoothly,

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone else to keep you company.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Bruno replied good-naturedly. ‘It’s just that you were my first choice.’

‘What a shame you aren’t mine,’ Maxine retorted. ‘Goodbye.’

When she hung up, Guy lifted his head from the paper. Returning his gaze with pride, Maxine said, ‘There.’

‘Totally believable,’ he remarked dryly, shaking the last Jaffa cake out of the box. ‘The best piece of acting I’ve seen in years. Who were you talking to, the speaking clock?’

Chapter 23

Sunday mornings were funny creatures, Thea decided. Waking up alone on a Sunday morning, as far as she was concerned, was downright depressing. In the first months after the break-up of her marriage, she had spent each week dreading those few hideous hours above all others. Solitary Sunday mornings, like solitary Christmases, were the absolute pits.

And then there were the other kind .. .

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Oliver, leaning across and brushing a croissant flake from her cleavage.

Thea smiled at him. ‘That there really isn’t anything more wonderful than lying in bed on a Sunday with fresh croissants, lots of newspapers and a superb lover.’

‘Does that mean I trail in third?’ he protested. ‘Behind food and The Times?’

‘No.’ As she kissed his cheek, the newspapers crackled between them. ‘They’re nice but they aren’t crucial. Having you here is what makes it so wonderful.’ Her smile widening, she pushed back her long white hair. And of course there is the even more wonderful added bonus ...’

Oliver smirked. ‘That I’m a superb lover.’

‘Actually,’ said Thea, ‘it’s that you’re so good at crosswords.’ She chuckled in delight. It was the most gorgeous day but she didn’t even want to venture outside. Oliver was here with her and that was all that mattered.

Oliver, however, was still hungry. ‘If we’d stayed at the hotel we could have called room service,’ he grumbled.

Remembering to buy the croissants and a jar of black cherry jam had stretched Thea to the domestic limits. Never having been the type to keep a fridge bursting with cold roast chicken, smoked ham, good wine and strawberries, she knew with certainty that the only items currently in occupation were three opened jars of mayonnaise in various stages of senility, a Body Shop eye mask for hangovers, and a mango. But what the hell, she decided comfortably. I’m an artist.

I’m allowed to be a slob.

‘I don’t have any more food, we shall have to starve,’ she told Oliver, lifting her face to his for another kiss. ‘There, you see? A prime example of why I must never marry you. I’m hopeless in the kitchen. Within weeks you’d be a shadow of your handsome former self and screaming for a divorce.’

‘I would not!’ He looked astonished. ‘We’d have a housekeeper.’

‘To cater for our every whim?’ Thea mocked. ‘How exotic!’

‘I’m being serious. And meanwhile ...’ Picking up the phone beside the bed, he punched out the number of his hotel.

‘How marvellous,’ Thea sighed, when he had spoken to the restaurant manager and arranged for two three-course lunches to be sent over by taxi within the hour. ‘The power of the favoured customers.’

‘The power of money.’ Oliver dismissed it with a shrug. ‘It’s not such a big deal.’

‘It’s a big deal when it means you get to eat rack of lamb with fennel instead of dial-a-pizza,’ Thea said happily. She might not cook but she still adored exquisite food.

‘If you’re that easily impressed,’ Oliver retorted, ‘I don’t know why you won’t marry me.

Then you could eat whatever you liked, go wherever you liked ...’

As Thea sat up, the sheet dropped away, revealing her nakedness. Trailing the back of her hand across Oliver’s cheek, she felt the bristly soft texture of his moustache against her skin.

‘Don’t be cross with me,’ she chided, her tone gentle. ‘If I said yes, people would wonder if I’d married you for your money. I would wonder if I’d married you for your money! But this way it doesn’t matter, because I love you anyway. I’m already where I want to be and I’m doing exactly what I want to do. As far as I’m concerned, this is as perfect as it gets.’

Oliver was in the shower when the doorbell rang. Thea, only vaguely decent in an embroidered black silk robe which showed off her splendid bosom, and with her long white hair still hanging loose down her back, was padding barefoot around the kitchen in search of matching cutlery.

As she headed for the front door, her stomach rumbled. Lobster mousse, rack of lamb, fresh fruit salad and two bottles of Chardonnay were going to go down very well indeed. But three figures were silhouetted through the patterned glass and none of them appeared to be carrying trays of sumptuous food.

One outline was instantly recognizable, the other two were short. Thea groaned. It was too late to shrink back and pretend not to be at home. Whilst she hesitated, she heard a young girl enquire in high-pitched tones, ‘So if she’s your mother, does that mean she’s really old?’

‘Ancient,’ Maxine replied. ‘Over forty.’

Thea took a deep breath and opened the door. ‘But young at heart,’ she declared, praying that Oliver wouldn’t choose this moment to break into song upstairs. ‘Darling, how lovely to see you, but you really should have phoned. I’m in a tearing hurry, about to go out .. .

‘Just five minutes then.’ Since it hadn’t for a moment occurred to Maxine that she might not be welcome, she was already halfway through the door, ushering her two small charges into the hallway ahead of her. ‘Mum, this is Ella, and this is Josh, and am I glad you’re home. We’ve walked all the way from Trezale House and I forgot to bring any money with me. If you could lend me a fiver for cold drinks ...’

‘I’ll go and find my purse,’ said Thea, backing away. ‘Wait here.’

‘... and if Ella could just run upstairs and use the bathroom,’ Maxine went on, scarcely pausing for breath. ‘She’s had her legs crossed for the last twenty minutes. It’s been painful to watch.’

Damn, thought Thea, glancing down at the small blond girl whose knees were pressed tightly together. ‘Right, um ... give me a couple of minutes first.’

‘Is that the shower?’ Maxine, listening to the distant sound of running water, gave her mother an enquiring look. ‘Who’s upstairs?’

‘No one.’ Thea gathered her black robe around her and moved towards the staircase. ‘I was just about to jump in. I’ll go and turn it off.’

‘Out,’ she hissed moments later, grabbing Oliver’s soapy arm and dragging him out of the shower. ‘My daughter and your grandchildren are downstairs, waiting to use the loo. You’ll have to hide in the bedroom.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Shampoo cascaded down his face and chest, half blinding him. Stubbing his toe against the edge of the door he cursed once more beneath his breath as Thea pushed him naked on to the landing. ‘I knew we should have stayed at the hotel. How long are they here for?’

‘As long as it takes to pee.’ Thea, stifling laughter, steered him towards the bedroom.

‘Don’t worry I’ll get rid of them. Stay in here. And whatever you do, don’t sneeze.’

By the time she returned downstairs, Maxine and the children had moved into the front room. Maxine, glancing out of the window, said, ‘If you ordered a taxi to pick you up, it’s already here. Shall I go out and tell the driver he’ll have to wait?’

‘I’ll do it.’ Thea hurried towards the door but the taxi driver was already out of the car, reaching into the back seat and sliding out a vast wicker hamper.

‘Can I go to the bathroom now?’ cried Ella, frantic with need.

‘First left at the top of the stairs,’ Maxine replied absently, her gaze still fixed on the driver as he struggled up the path with the hamper. ‘Mum, what’s going on? Have you adopted a puppy?’

‘I’ve invited someone to dinner.’ Thea looked shamefaced. ‘He doesn’t know I can’t cook and I wanted to make a good impression so I ordered the food from a restaurant.’

‘Good heavens,’ said Maxine, because Thea had never worried about making a good impression before. ‘I hope he’s worth it.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Thea smiled to herself, because Oliver was worth millions. ‘He is.’

‘Do you know, Maxine, your mother wasn’t telling the truth?’ Josh remarked as they made their way back along the beach.

Maxine licked a blob of chocolate ice-cream from her wrist. ‘No?’

‘She hadn’t had a shower when we got there,’ he continued seriously, ‘and her hair was dry.

But when ‘I went up after Ella, there were wet footprints all along the landing and blobs of shampoo on the bathroom carpet.’

‘Gosh.’ Maxine looked shocked. ‘You mean—?’

Josh, who was deeply interested in becoming a detective when he grew up, nodded.

‘Somebody else was upstairs.’

‘I knew that,’ Ella piped up, anxious not to be outdone. ‘I went into the wrong room by mistake and there was someone hiding under the duvet in a big bed.’

Josh was a particular fan of Inspector Poirot. His expression serious, he said, ‘Were they dead?’

‘Well, I could hear breathing.’

‘That’s a relief then,’ said Maxine cheerfully. ‘At least he was alive.’

Josh stared at her. ‘Why did you say he? How do you know it was a man?’

She grinned. He wasn’t the only one to be intrigued. For the first time in her life Thea was being secretive and there had to be a particularly good reason why.

‘I don’t know,’ she told Josh. ‘Lucky guess.’

Chapter 24

Janey, hampered by the tray of flowers in her arms, was about to push open the door of the restaurant with her bottom when it was done for her. She tried not to look too taken aback when she saw that it was Nina.

‘Oh ... hi,’ she said quickly, terrified that her voice sounded artificial. Nodding down at the tray, brimming with delphiniums, pinks and snowy gypsophila, she added stupidly, ‘Just delivering the flowers.’

‘Bruno told me to expect you,’ Nina replied. ‘One of the waitresses dropped twenty-eight dinner plates last night so he’s gone out to get replacements.’

She was wearing a long, droopy dress of pale blue cheesecloth, several silver necklaces and flat, hippyish sandals laced around the ankles with leather thongs. No matter how many times Janey had tried, she simply couldn’t envisage Bruno and Nina in bed together. She couldn’t even imagine them sharing the same laundry basket.

‘Heavens!’ Putting the tray down, she wondered how quickly she could arrange the flowers and get away. ‘He must have been furious. He’ll be looking for a replacement waitress.’

‘It wasn’t her fault.’ Nina, lighting a cigarette and sitting down to watch Janey at work, appeared unconcerned. ‘She was taking the stack of plates down from a high shelf in the kitchen and Bruno pinched her bum. She screamed and dropped the lot. Under the circumstances, there wasn’t a great deal he could say.’

Here, thought Janey, was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. This was her chance to assuage her own conscience, to gain first-hand proof of the understanding shared by Nina and Bruno, to prove without a shadow of a doubt that what she was doing wasn’t wrong.

‘Doesn’t it bother you?’ she said, her tone ultra-casual, her fingers trembling only slightly as she pushed cones of bottle-green oasis into each of the vases. ‘Bruno, I mean, flirting with other women?’

Nina, looking amused, blew a perfect smoke ring.

‘By that I presume he’s been flirting with you.’

‘No ...’ Flustered, Janey felt the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘Well, maybe a bit, but not me in particular.’

‘Of course not,’ Nina replied mildly. ‘Just you and every other woman he sets eyes on.

That’s Bruno’s way, I’m used to it by now ... and it is only flirting, after all. Harmless enough stuff.’

Janey felt her stomach begin to churn. What she and Bruno had been doing went way beyond a harmless flirtation. Was Nina bluffing, playing the part of the tolerant partner, or had Bruno been lying to them both? Not having the nerve to ask outright, however, she resorted to lies of her own.

‘My husband was the same,’ she said, improvising rapidly, ‘but I found it harder to cope with than you do. I kept wondering if, well, if that was all it was.’

‘You thought he might be having an affair?’ Nina looked interested. ‘And was he?’

Despising herself, Janey shook her head. ‘I don’t know. If he was, he disappeared before I could find out.’

‘Of course.’ Remembering, Nina nodded. The next moment she added unexpectedly, ‘But you only felt that way because you were jealous.’

Janey looked up at her. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘I have no reason to be jealous.’ Leaning forward, Nina stubbed out her cigarette. Clasping her hands together in her lap, she said simply, ‘I love Bruno. I trust him. And ‘I know he would never be unfaithful to me.’

This was no bluff. Her calm belief in him was staggering. Feeling sicker by the minute, Janey said, ‘What would you do if he was?’ Hastily she added, ‘In the future, I mean.’

Nina gave the hypothetical question some thought. ‘I’d be devastated,’ she said at last, and smiled. ‘Goodness, it’s not something I’ve ever really considered. Bruno’s my whole life. It would mean he’d betrayed me and my love for him.’ She paused, then said, ‘I could never forgive him for that.’

Janey wanted to cry, because Bruno had betrayed them both and because her own newfound happiness had been nothing but a sham. She too had trusted him, had believed him when he told her he loved her. For the first time in almost two years she had felt like a human being, experiencing emotions she’d thought she might never feel again.

And it had all been an illusion because Bruno didn’t have an understanding with Nina and had lied to them both in order to satisfy his own selfish craving for adulation and sex. Janey wondered how many other gullible woman had fallen into the same trap. Most of all she hoped Nina would never find out.

But ignorance was bliss and whilst her own world crumbled around her, Nina’s train of thought was moving on to more relevant matters. Happily lighting up another cigarette and flicking back her long straight hair, she settled herself more comfortably in her seat. ‘Come on, Janey, cheer up. No use dwelling on the past. You’re coming to Bruno’s party on Friday night, aren’t you?’

Dumbly, Janey nodded. Her name was already on the guest list. She wouldn’t go, of course, but a last-minute excuse was easier than coming up with something plausible just now.

‘It’s going to be great fun,’ said Nina with more enthusiasm than Janey had known she possessed. Then she sighed and added plaintively, ‘The trouble is, I haven’t a clue what to get him for his birthday. I’m hopeless at choosing presents. What do you think, Janey? Any ideas?’

A monogrammed chastity belt, thought Janey. And a muzzle. Aloud, she said, ‘I don’t really know. How about aftershave?’

‘Oh!’ Nina started to laugh. ‘I think Bruno’s worth a bit more than that, don’t you? He is my life partner, after all. I was thinking more along the lines of a new car.’

During the next two days, Janey didn’t have a chance either to see or speak to Bruno. By Friday night she was in a turmoil about whether or not to go to the party. The thought of turning up, being sociable towards Bruno and Nina, and allowing him to think that nothing had changed seemed hideously hypocritical.

But on the other hand, and for purely selfish reasons, she was tempted to go anyway.

Bruno’s famous birthday parties were a social landmark in Trezale, enormous fun and always riotously successful. His friends, glitzy and glamorous and all at least as extrovert as Bruno himself, descended from all corners of the country for the event which invariably carried on into Saturday. Last year the gossip columns had been full of the stories about the playboy racing driver, water-skiing naked at dawn across Trezale Bay and eloping the next day with the only just divorced young wife of a particularly pompous Tory MP. The marriage had lasted seven months and six days, which was seven months longer than anyone who knew either of them had predicted. Earlier in the week Bruno had shown Janey the fax sent by the same racing driver accepting his invitation to this year’s party: ‘Me and my skis say yes, yes, please,’ he had scrawled across the top of the page. Below it, he had written out fifty times: ‘And this time I must not elope.’

Oh sod it, thought Janey, throwing down the evening paper and switching off the television.

She’d been looking forward to this party for weeks. The prospect of sitting alone in her flat mourning the loss of a bastard with whom she should never have got involved in the first place and consoling herself with a hefty bar of Cadbury’s fruit and nut was too depressing for words.

She was going to do herself up, take herself along to the party, flirt with strangers and have an all-round bloody good time. Telling Bruno to get stuffed could wait until next week.

And who knew whom she might meet, Janey decided, daydreaming as she turned on the bath taps and tipped in at least half a pint of peach bubble-bath. As long as she maintained a positive attitude the possibilities were endless. And if the worst came to the very worst, there was always the water-skiing racing driver .. .

By eight-thirty she was almost ready and for once, to her immense relief, everything seemed to be going right. The black sequinned dress she so seldom had the opportunity to wear looked as good as it always did, enhancing the curves she wanted enhanced and discreetly skimming over those she preferred to keep to herself. Wickedly expensive but worth every penny, it imbued Janey with self-confidence and glittered like coal when she moved.

Her hair, too, had decided to behave this evening; the bronze combs holding it up at the sides were staying firmly in place and even the loose blond tendrils at the nape of her neck were falling naturally into place instead of sticking out at silly angles as they so often did when she tried to look chic.

Bronze eyeshadow, black mascara, a bit of eyebrow pencil and two coats of pinky-bronze lipstick later, Janey was done. Stepping back and surveying her reflection in the mirror, she decided that if she said so herself, she looked pretty damn good.

She was going to the party and she was ready for anything.

Except maybe water-skiing at dawn, she thought ruefully. At least, not in this dress . . .

Chapter 25

The restaurant had been transformed. Tonight, minus its twenty-five tables, with wild music pulsating from loudspeakers and the lighting subdued, it looked more like a nightclub. And although it wasn’t yet ten o’clock the place was already heaving with glamorous bodies intent on having a fabulous time.

Bruno, wearing a new, raspberry-pink silk shirt, monopolized what was now the dance floor. With a bottle of Remy Martin in one hand and a fetchingly dishevelled brunette in the other, he was performing the lambada and simultaneously carrying on a shouted conversation with a tall blond actor, star of a long-running series of coffee commercials. Watching him as he laughed, joked and didn’t miss so much as a single move of the complicated dance, Janey realized that this was Bruno’s speciality; here, as if she needed it, was yet another example of his ability to have it all. He wanted to dance and he enjoyed talking to his friends, so why waste time doing first one thing, then the other? And when he liked two women, why miss out, she thought bitterly. Why not have both?

Gazing around, she realized she couldn’t see Nina anywhere. All the women were amazingly done-up, there wasn’t a shred of sprigged Laura Ashley cotton in sight.

The next moment, in mid-gyration, Bruno saw her. Whispering something in the giggling brunette’s ear, he pressed the bottle of cognac against her cleavage and turned her in the direction of the actor. As he made his way over to Janey she felt the familiar tug of longing in the pit of her stomach. The man was a liar and a cheat but sexual attraction didn’t automatically evaporate into thin air. Willing herself to overcome it, she returned his welcoming grin with a brief smile and urged herself to remain in control. She supposed she ought to feel honoured that he had abandoned the brunette in order to come and see her instead.

‘Janey, you look incredible! Mmm, and you smell of peaches ...’

As she submitted awkwardly to his embrace, Bruno murmured, ‘Sweetheart, relax. It’s my birthday; I’m expected to kiss my guests.’

‘Here’s your card.’ Taking a step backwards, she pulled it from her bag. Then, eyeing the table stacked with elaborately wrapped gifts she added, ‘I didn’t buy you a present.’

‘Don’t worry, you can give it to me later.’ Bruno winked. ‘Upstairs.’

He simply didn’t care, thought Janey. He wasn’t even bothering to lower his voice. Taking another step back, she flinched as her high heel landed on someone else’s foot. Behind her, more and more guests were arriving, piling in through the double doors like customers on the first day of Harrods’ sale. The stifling, perfumed heat combined with the green and gold decor gave the place a jungle atmosphere. Over to her left a tall woman screeched with laughter like a parrot.

The place was noisy and chaotic but Bruno, she thought crossly, shouldn’t assume he couldn’t be overheard.

‘... absolutely gorgeous,’ he continued, sliding an appreciative forefinger along her exposed collarbone. ‘Janey, you should do yourself up like this more often. I can hardly wait to unwrap you. Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to—’

He was, Janey realized, well on the way to getting drunk. She hadn’t seen him like this before. Removing his hand from her shoulder before it could weasel its way anywhere embarrassing, she said abruptly, ‘Where’s Nina?’

‘Nina?’ Bruno laughed. ‘Do I know a Nina? Come on sweetheart, make my day. Tell me you’re wearing stockings underneath that delicious dress.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ Trying to sound brisk, Janey slapped away the errant hand now threatening to slide down her thigh. ‘Where is she?’

‘I say, you sound just like my old headmistress.’ Bruno gazed at her in admiration. ‘Now there’s an idea.’

‘Where is Nina?’ repeated Janey, loudly enough for those around her to hear. People were beginning to stare. ‘I need to speak to her.’

‘Her grandmother’s been taken ill.’ He grinned once more, totally unrepentant. ‘She was rushed into hospital this morning. Nina’s gone up to Berkshire to see her. She won’t be back until tomorrow night at the earliest.’ So that was why he wasn’t bothering to be discreet, thought Janey. Feeling sorry for Nina she said, ‘Is it anything serious?’

‘Chronic affluence.’ Bruno helped himself to a glass of pink champagne from the table behind her and raised it in mock salute. ‘Dear old Granny Bentley. Seriously wealthy and ninety-three to boot. Well past her sell-by date, wouldn’t you say?’

At first Janey didn’t say anything at all. At that moment her task became easier. To Bruno it had simply been a flip one-liner, but as far as she was concerned it was downright cruel. And wonderfully, miraculously off-putting.

‘My grandmother is ninety-four,’ she lied, her tone icy. ‘Maybe you think she’s past her sell-by date, too.’

André Covel, who owned the hugely successful surf shop where Alan had spent most of Janey’s hard-earned money, and who had been a particular friend of his, refilled Janey’s glass with white wine. Glancing across at Bruno, who was now back on the dance floor with the stunning Italian wife of a well-known rock singer, he raised his sun-bleached eyebrows and said,

‘You seem to know Bruno rather well. Anything going on that I should be told about?’

Definitely not, thought Janey with a suppressed shudder. She liked André but he was the most appalling gossip. And he knew everyone .. .

‘No.’ She made it sound as if the idea was an amusing one, because anything the least hit emphatic would only bring out the Sherlock Holmes in him. ‘Not my type, thanks.’

‘Bruno?’ Jan, André’s girl friend, had been only half listening. With a giggle she said,

‘Everyone’s his type, though, lecherous old sod! D’you know, last Christmas he tried to seduce me in the kitchen of this very restaurant? It was right at the end of the evening but there were still three tables of customers out here. Bruno invited me through to the back to see his Sabatier knives and told the washer-up to take a ten-minute coffee break. I told Bruno to take a running bloody jump,’ she declared with pride. ‘I mean to say, ten minutes!’

Bruno’s reputation was evidently common knowledge. Janey, who had never known of it until now, realized that she simply hadn’t been mixing in the right circles. Gossip, it appeared, had its uses after all.

But anger and humiliation churned inside her. She just wished she could have had this conversation six weeks ago, before falling blindly into Bruno’s arms and kidding herself that it was love.

‘That’s nothing,’ André was saying, oblivious to the effect his revelations were having. As he offered Janey a cigarette, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Remember Natasha, the blonde with the tattoo on her bum who came to work for me last year? Bruno had an affair with her mother. Fifty years old and the manageress of that building society in Pink Street. She was totally besotted with him, apparently. Natasha said she only just managed to persuade her not to have a face lift.’

‘Fifty!’ squealed Jan, who was twenty-four. ‘Practically old enough to be his mother. Yuk, totally gross.’

Janey had heard more than enough for one night. The white wine wasn’t going down too well; her stomach felt like a nest of snakes. Moving away in search of food, hoping it might help, she found Nick and Tony, the antique dealers from next door, who were admiring the splendid buffet. Tony, wearing a magenta cravat and a new, extremely glossy toupee in a startling shade of chestnut, was piling his plate with scampi tails and endive salad. Nick, who had been greedily envying the whole fresh salmon, slipped his arm around Janey’s waist and gave her a welcoming peck on the cheek. He smelled of Penhaligon’s cologne and garlic, and Janey smiled because at least it was safe to assume that neither of them had ever slept with Bruno. They were devoted entirely to each other.

‘Here you are, my darling. Teeny Cornish potatoes coated in breadcrumbs, deep-fried and rolled in garlic butter.’ Nick popped one into her mouth, selected another for himself and rolled his eyes in appreciation. ‘Sheer heaven. Better than sex.’

‘Lovely,’ agreed Janey, when she had swallowed. With a grin she added, ‘So Bruno hasn’t thrown you out yet.’

‘Too busy philandering,’ Nick remarked, with a nod in Bruno’s direction. Following his gaze, Janey saw that Bruno and a blonde appeared to be playing pass-the-orange without the orange.

‘Bless him,’ said Tony with an indulgent smile. ‘He works hard; he’s just letting off steam.

If you can’t philander on your birthday, when can you?’

According to André, Bruno had been doing it day in, day out throughout most of his adult life. He practically made a career out of it. Reminded once more of her own gullibility, she said,

‘He’s getting too old to be a philanderer. Before long he’s not going to find it so easy to impress the girls.’

‘Ah, but he has charm,’ Tony observed through a mouthful of salmon. ‘Charisma. Mark my words, that boy will always get by.’

Nick and Tony adored Bruno. Janey couldn’t decide which was the most painful, being regaled with Andres scurrilous gossip or having to endure this paeon of praise. Belatedly, she wished Maxine could have been here with her tonight. Maxine, who didn’t yet know the sordid truth, had sensed instinctively what Bruno was really like and had tried to warn her away from him.

I was wrong and she was right, thought Janey wryly, sipping her drink. Ouch.

It would have been nice to have company, too. Doing herself up and telling herself that the party would be fun was all very well, but now she was actually here Janey was beginning to feel conspicuously single. Most of the guests were from out of town and she didn’t know as many people as she had imagined she would. Sometimes even being driven to distraction by Maxine’s over-the-top chat-up lines was preferable to standing alone and wondering who to talk to next.

Chapter 26

The next moment, just to prove she looked as solitary as she felt, a male voice behind her said, ‘Speak of the devil’s sister. Hello, Janey, all on your own tonight?’

Turning, she saw that it was Guy Cassidy, looking ridiculously handsome in a black dinner jacket and white shirt. Next to him stood a tall, titian-haired woman wearing a strapless topaz silk evening dress. Janey smiled as Guy, making no mention of Serena, introduced her as

‘Charlotte, a friend of mine’. From what Maxine had told her, he had almost as many female friends as Bruno.

‘I was just telling Charlotte about Maxine’s latest adventure,’ Guy went on, his tone dry.

‘She got on to Josh’s skate-board, shot down the lane at the end of our drive and landed up in the back of a milk float. The milkman almost had a heart attack.’

Janey winced. Was she hurt?’

‘No, but she spent the rest of the afternoon washing strawberry yoghurt out of her hair. And the milkman, in a state of shock, ran over the skate-board.’

‘Poor Josh.’

‘Poor Maxine! Very poor Maxine, in fact. As soon as her hair was dry, Josh dragged her down to the shops and made her buy him a new one.’ With a grin, he added, ‘It cost thirty-eight pounds. When I found out what he’d done I didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d bought the old one in Oxfam for a fiver.’

This time Janey laughed. Grateful that Guy hadn’t asked her where laughing-boy James was tonight and eager to keep him away from the subject, she said, ‘When she was seven, Maxine rode her bike into a fish pond and ended up covered in frogspawn. You’d think she would have learned her lesson by now.’

Guy stepped to one side as a man wearing a crash helmet, white silk boxer shorts, a tropical suntan and a pair of water skis made his way past. ‘This party would suit Maxine down to the ground,’ he observed. ‘She could have brought Josh’s new skate-board along and challenged that chap to a race.’

‘She’d certainly enjoy herself.’ Janey wondered where Serena was. ‘Is Maxine at home with the children?’

‘I thought it would be safer,’ Guy replied enigmatically. ‘Bruno invited her, of course, but I told her it was her turn to babysit and for once she didn’t kick up a fuss.’

Surprised and faintly put out because she hadn’t realized Maxine had been invited to the party by Bruno, Janey said, ‘Oh.’

Charlotte, who was gazing with fascination at the water-skiing racing driver, drawled, ‘Do you know, those boxer shorts are completely see-through.’

‘Enthralling.’ Guy returned his attention to Janey. ‘We hadn’t planned to come here ourselves; Charlotte pressganged me into partnering her at a charity dinnerat some castle in Bodmin but it was so Godawful we escaped at half-time.’

‘Between the main course and the sweet.’ Charlotte, gazing fondly up at Guy, slid her hand into his.

‘I didn’t particularly want to come here, either,’ said Guy. ‘Bruno Parry-Brent isn’t one of my favourite people but he knows how to throw a party. And at least the food’s edible.’

Janey raised her eyebrows. ‘Does this mean you’re gatecrashing?’

‘Oh, I was invited too.’ He looked amused. ‘Probably because I’m a good customer and Bruno felt I deserved to be thanked.’

Charlotte, who evidently felt that Guy was spending too much time talking to a rival female, gave his arm a possessive tug. ‘Come on, darling, we’re missing all the fun.’

‘Hooray,’ said Guy. On the dance floor the water-skier had now been joined by a fat man in a bikini with a surfboard under his arm. ‘Why don’t you go and dance with them?’

‘I’ve got a much better idea.’ Charlotte wasn’t about to give in. Her green eyes glittered.

‘Why don’t you come and dance with me?’

‘Oh look, there’s Suzannah.’ Embarrassed and terribly afraid that Guy was only staying because she was on her own and he felt sorry for her, Janey waved at a girl she barely knew.

With a brief smile she said, ‘Do excuse me, I must go and say hello.’

At least Suzannah didn’t mention Bruno. ‘My boyfriend’s buggered off to Ibiza,’ she pouted. ‘Men, honestly. He didn’t even have the nerve to tell me to my face! All ‘I got was a message left on my answering machine saying he’d be back in three weeks. How about you, Janey? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’

Out of the corner of her eye Janey glimpsed Bruno, murmuring into the ear of yet another blonde.The next moment he was kissing her neck.

‘No,’ she replied firmly. ‘Nobody at all.’

Suzannah, who was also blonde, and whose parents owned the largest yacht in Cornwall, didn’t work. Getting her hair highlighted and zipping around in her open-top jeep evidently occupied all her time.

‘Ah, but it’s all right for you,’ she told Janey. ‘You’re running your own business. At least you’ve got something to take your mind off not having a man.’

‘Of course.’ Janey managed to hide her smile. ‘It’s a great help.’

‘You’re really lucky,’ sighed Suzannah. ‘I sometimes wonder if I should think about getting a little job.’

How about Governor of the Bank of England, thought Janey. But at least she was talking to someone, even if it was only Suzannah. At this moment she couldn’t afford to be choosy.

Feigning interest, she said, ‘What kind of work are you interested in?’

‘God, I don’t know.’ Suzannah flicked back her hair with a tanned arm and half a dozen solid gold bangles jangled in unison. ‘Something easy, I suppose. Like your job.’

Janey tried to envisage Suzannah getting up at five every morning, working flat out for twelve hours a day and settling down at night to do the books. Determinedto keep a straight face even if it killed her, she said, ‘I didn’t realize you were interested in floristry.’

‘Oh, I love flowers.’ To prove her point, Suzannah gestured vaguely in the direction of a frantically gyrating girl whose purple taffeta dress was patterned with enormous yellow daisies.

‘They’re so ... um ... pretty, aren’t they?’ Then, brightening, she added, ‘In fact my boyfriend bought me a big bouquet of flowers for my birthday. And he got them from your shop.’

‘Really?’ Every cloud, thought Janey. Men, incapable of coming up with anything more imaginative for the women in their lives, were what kept her in business. ‘What were they?’

‘Red ones,’ said Suzannah, pleased with herself for having remembered. ‘Roses, I think.

With bits of funny white stuff mixed in.’

‘Cocaine?’

‘What?’

‘Sorry.’ Biting her lip, Janey said, ‘It’s called gypsophila.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Did the roses last a long time?’ Janey couldn’t help it. She always wanted people to get the very best out of their flowers. ‘If the heads start to droop after the first week you can re-cut the stems and plunge them into boiling water for a few seconds. It works wonders.’

‘Really?’ Suzannah looked blank. ‘I forgot to put them in water when he gave them to me.

When ‘I woke up the next day they were all dead.’

The dedicated revellers were moving up a gear. People were stripping off to reveal swim suits beneath their party clothes, ready for a moonlight dip at high tide. A state-of-the-art camcorder ended up in a bowl of punch and one of the male guests, suspected of working on behalf of one of the more down-market tabloids, was handcuffed to a tree in the restaurant garden, his hairy ankles tied together by the reel of exposed film from his camera.

For Janey, introduced by Nick and Tony to an hotelier who was interested in flowers, the evening was turning out to be not so bad after all. He needed regular arrangements for his foyer and sitting rooms and a deal was struck over two hefty measures of cognac, both of which were drunk by the hotelier.

‘Sign here,’ said Janey, having written out details of the agreement on one of Bruno’s linen napkins. ‘You may not remember this tomorrow. I want something I can jog your memory with.’

‘You sound like my wife,’ he grumbled good naturedly. ‘I still don’t remember asking her to marry me. She just woke me up the next day and told me I had.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Janey grinned as he scrawled a haphazard signature across the bottom of the napkin. ‘This isn’t going to tie you down nearly as much as a wife.’

Bruno caught up with her as she was on her way to the loo.

‘I saw you,’ he murmured, catching her around the waist and pulling her towards him.

‘You’ve been talking to Eddie Beresford for the last twenty minutes.’

‘I’m amazed you even noticed.’ Bruno reeked of Shalimar. Janey tried to pull away, but he was stronger than she was. Now he was drawing her back towards the dance floor.

‘I notice everything.’ With a derisory glance in Eddie Beresford’s direction, he drawled,

‘He could hardly take his eyes off your cleavage.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Janey in pointed tones. ‘I’m sure he’s faithful to his wife.’

But Bruno didn’t make the connection. ‘He’s so ugly ‘I shouldn’t think he could find anyone to be unfaithful with. Anyway, it’s my turn now.’ His green eyes glittered as he studied Janey’s rigid face. ‘And don’t think I’ve forgotten about my birthday present either. How about a couple of dances to put us in the mood, then you head on up the stairs and make yourself ...

comfortable? I’ll have a quick drink with Guy Cassidy and the redhead, and follow you up five minutes later. If anyone spots you on the way, just tell them you feel faint.’

He’d got her as far as the dance floor but Janey wasn’t moving. Causing a major scene was the last thing she wanted.

‘I see,’ she said carefully. ‘But what should I do if the bed’s already occupied?’

Bruno laughed. ‘Sweetheart, the keys to the flat are right here in my pocket. I’m hardly going to rent out my own bedroom to whoever fancies a quickie!’

‘It’s your quickies I’m talking about.’ It was no good, she hated Bruno about as much as she despised herself for having been so weak-willed in the first place and she couldn’t contain herself a moment longer. With icy disdain she said, ‘I can’t seem to spot the blonde you were dancing with earlier. Are you sure she isn’t still up there, hunting for her knickers and hoping for a repeat performance?’

‘Oh dear.’ He gave her a mock-sorrowful look. ‘Are we jealous?’

Janey, who’d said it but hadn’t meant it, realized with a sickening jolt that she’d been right.

‘I’m not jealous.’ The urge to punch him was almost overwhelming. ‘I just can’t believe it’s taken me this long to find out what you’re really like. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. Believe it or not, I actually trusted you..’

Bruno, who liked Janey a lot and who found her innocence particularly appealing, decided that he could bluff his way out of this one. True, she was upset, but only because she didn’t realize the sacrifices he’d made since their relationship had begun.

‘Sweetheart, there’s no need for this.’ Still smiling, he tried to draw her towards him. It was like dragging a child into the dentist’s chair. ‘You can trust me. OK, so maybe I’ve played the field a bit in the past, but if you only knew how many women I haven’t slept with since we’ve been together ... I’m a reformed character, truly I am!’

‘Liar,’ hissed Janey. ‘I spoke to Nina. You don’t have any kind of understanding.’

Bruno, determined to chivvy her out of her mood, gave her a disarming look. ‘OK, call it an unspoken agreement. Whichever, she’s hardly likely to admit it to you.’

‘And what about all the others?’ Janey countered bitterly. ‘My God, ‘I don’t know when you find time to sleep! Let go of me ... !’

This was more than a mood, he realized. Janey meant business. Oh well, it had been good fun while it lasted.

‘So what are you saying?’ He released his grip on her arms so abruptly that she almost staggered backwards. ‘That you don’t want to meet me upstairs in ten minutes after all?’

‘You arrogant bastard.’ Without her even realizing it, Janey’s eyes had filled with tears. ‘I never want to meet you again anywhere. I never want to see you again!’

Bruno’s relationships ended when he wanted them to end. He had never been dumped in his life. And if Janey thought she could get away with doing it in public, with making a fool of him at his very own party, she could suffer the consequences in return.

At that moment, by chance, the dance music which had been blaring through the speakers came to a halt. The tape had finished.

‘Oh dear,’ Bruno drawled into the ensuing silence. ‘And there I was, doing my good Samaritan bit and thinking you’d be grateful for the attention. I’m beginning to realize now why your husband might have wanted to disappear. Is that what you yelled at him, Janey? Did you tell him you never wanted to see him again?’ He paused for a second, then added with a cruel smile, ‘If you ask me, the poor sod probably couldn’t believe his luck.’

Chapter 27

It was a nightmare. A nightmare with an audience. With tears streaming down her face, Janey turned and searched frantically for the way out. All she could see was a blur of faces.

Mascara stung her eyes and she didn’t know where the hell she’d left her handbag. Her face burned with shame as she pushed her way through the crowd of riveted partygoers in what she prayed was the direction of the door.

The next moment a pair of strong arms were guiding her. Behind her a voice murmured reassuringly, ‘It’s OK, I’ve got your bag. Just keep walking.’

Janey stumbled on the steps outside the restaurant and the arms tightened their grip on her shoulders, keeping her upright. When they reached the pavement she turned to face her rescuer.

‘I’m all right. Thanks ... I’ll be f-fine now ...’

Her voice wavered and began to break as a fresh wave of humiliation swept over her.

Fumbling blindly for her bag, she tried to hide her blotched face, cruelly exposed by the bright spotlighting outside the restaurant. She must look a complete wreck; this was almost more awful than having to endure Bruno’s sneering jibes.

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ said Guy, handing overher bag but keeping a firm hold on her arm. ‘You aren’t all right at all and you’re certainly in no state to drive home. Come on, give me your car keys.’

He might have come to her rescue but he wasn’t being wildly sympathetic. Still sobbing, Janey said, ‘I’m not drunk.’

He sighed. ‘I know you aren’t drunk, but you can’t see where you’re going, either. Why don’t you just give me the keys and let me drive?’

‘Because the van isn’t here.’ She sniffed loudly. ‘I walked.’

For some reason he seemed to find her reply amusing. Turning her around and leading her briskly across the road towards his own car, he said with a brief smile, ‘Fair enough.’

‘You can’t take me home.’

‘Why not?’

Janey wiped her wet face with the back of her sleeve. Sequins, like miniature knives, grazed her cheeks. ‘What about ... thingy? Charlotte?’

‘Oh, thingy will understand.’ This time he grinned. ‘Besides, you only live half a mile away. All I’m doing is giving you a lift home; we aren’t eloping to Gretna Green.’

It was dark inside the car, which was a relief, but Janey still flinched each time another vehicle passed them, beaming sadistic headlights over her face. She couldn’t seem to stop crying, either; the harder she tried not to think about Bruno and the degrading scene back in the restaurant, the more insistently the tears slid down her face. She hoped Guy Cassidy couldn’t see them plopping into her lap.

The journey took all of two minutes. Janey was free of her seat belt and reaching for the door handle before the car had even drawn to a halt outside the shop.

‘It’s customary to invite the man in for a coffee, you know,’ he observed, when she had mumbled her thanks and scrambled out on to the pavement.

Janey, who had been about to slam the passenger door shut, forgot to avert her swollen eyes. ‘Look, you’ve been very kind but I’d really rather be on my own. Don’t you think I’m embarrassed enough as it is?’

But Guy had switched off the ignition and was already stepping out of the car. ‘I think it wouldn’t be fair to leave you on your own bawling your eyes out.’ His tone of voice was more gentle now, and reassuringly matter of fact. ‘Come on, we can’t stand here arguing in the street.

People will think you’re Maxine.’

‘She said you were a bully,’ Janey grumbled, realizing that he wasn’t going to go away.

‘And what about Charlotte, anyway? You took her along to the party. She won’t be very pleased with you if you don’t go back.’

‘She’ll survive.’ Guy dismissed the protest with a careless gesture. Taking the keys from her trembling hand, he opened the front door and guided Janey into the hallway ahead of him.

‘Besides, rescuing damsels in distress is as good a reason as any for escaping. ‘I grew out of those kind of parties years ago, and I’ve already told you I don’t much care for Bruno Parry-Brent.’ With a brief sidelong glance at Janey, he added, ‘That’s something we appear to have in common, at least.’

So much for looking great, thought Janey, gloomily surveying her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Having scrubbed her face, soaping away every last vestige of makeup, it no longer looked like a ploughed field but it was certainly in a sorry state.The whites of her eyes were pink and her cheeks, normally pink, were white. Her eyelids remained hopelessly swollen too, despite her best efforts with a cold flannel. And somewhere along the line she had managed to lose one of the combs holding her hair back at the sides. All in all, she looked like a lop-eared rabbit.

But since she wasn’t about to run off to Gretna Green, as Guy had so caustically reminded her earlier, what did it matter? Pulling a face at herself in the mirror, chucking the other bronze comb on to the windowsill and running her fingers through her no longer perfect hair, Janey unlocked the bathroom door. Guy was in the kitchen making coffee. If he was so hellbent on hearing her side of the unflattering story behind Bruno’s contemptuous outbursts tonight, she would give it to him. She had no reason to want to impress him; he was only another rotten man anyway.

‘You’re looking better.’ Guy, having made the coffee and brought it through to the sitting room, handed her the pink mug with elephants round the side. Stretching out in the chair by the window, he added, Not wonderful, but better.’

‘Thanks.’ He certainly had a way with words, thought Janey. Flattery like that could turn a more susceptible girl’s head.

‘So what was it all about?’

She shrugged. There was no reason on earth why Guy Cassidy should be interested in hearing this, yet he was certainly giving a good impression of an agony aunt. One of those brisk, no-nonsense ones, Janey decided, who wouldn’t hesitate to tell you what a prat you’d been.

‘Well, Marje,’ she began with a rueful smile, ‘I suppose you could say I got myself involved with the wrong kind of man. I fell for the old chat-up lines, and even managed to convince myself that we weren’t doing anything wrong.’

‘Don’t tell me. He said his wife didn’t understand him.’

‘Quite the reverse. He said Nina understood him only too well, and that she didn’t mind.’

‘Of course.’ Guy’s dark eyebrows twitched with suppressed amusement. ‘And you believed him.’

‘I don’t make a habit of getting involved with attached men,’ Janey protested. ‘I know what you must be thinking, but I’m really not like that. I suppose I believed him because I wanted to.

And he was plausible,’ she added defensively. ‘I’m not trying to excuse myself, I’m just explaining how it happened. It simply didn’t occur to me that he might not be telling the truth.’

‘Until tonight, presumably, when you learned otherwise.’

‘I found out a couple of days ago,’ Janey admitted. ‘I asked Nina.’

‘Good God.’

‘I didn’t tell her!’ she said crossly. ‘I’m not that much of a bitch.’

‘OK. So what happened after you’d made your momentous discovery?’

‘You were there.’ To her shame, she felt fresh tears on her cheeks. ‘You heard the rest. I told Bruno what I thought of him and he retaliated.’ Fumbling for a tissue,she took a deep breath.

‘He ... he hit back where it hurt. I wasn’t expecting him to say what he did.’

‘About your husband?’ Once again, Guy’s tone was reassuringly matter of fact. ‘I didn’t even know you’d been married. How long ago were you divorced?’

‘I’m not divorced,’ said Janey, her voice beginning to break. ‘My husband ... disappeared.

We hadn’t had a fight or anything like that. He just went out one day and n-never came b-b-back.

Nobody knows what happened to him ... We don’t even know if he’s alive or d-d-dead.’

It should have been embarrassing, breaking down in tears all over again in front of a man she barely knew. But Guy took it all in his stride, allowing her to get all the pent-up despair out of her system, making more coffee and showing no sign at all of wanting to slope off.

‘Stop apologizing,’ he said calmly when Janey, lobbing yet another sodden tissue into the waste paper basket, mumbled ‘Oh hell, I’m sorry’ for the fifth time. ‘You haven’t exactly just had the best two years in the world. You’re entitled to cry.’

‘I don’t usually talk about it,’ she admitted in a small voice.

‘You should. It helps to talk.’

‘Did you?’ Janey hesitated, wondering if he would be offended. ‘Talk, I mean. After your wife died.’

‘Probably bored a few close friends rigid,’ said Guy. ‘But they were kind enough not to let it show.’

‘And now here I am, boring you.’

‘Not at all.’ He grinned across at her. ‘If I was hearing it for the twentieth time and knew the words off by heart, then I’d be bored. But I’m being serious, Janey. It doesn’t help, bottling it all up. You really need to get it out of your system.’

‘I know, I know.’ The tears had dried up now, making it easier to speak. ‘But it’s so ...

unfinished. If I knew what had happened, it would help. If Alan had wanted to leave me, why didn’t he just say so? Sometimes I think ... oh hell, it doesn’t matter—’ Mindful of Guy’s own past experience, she bit her tongue before the shameful words could spill out. But he was already nodding in agreement, having understood exactly what she was about to say.

‘Sometimes you think it would be easier if he were dead.’

Plucking at the sequins on her dress, Janey nodded.

‘Of course it would be easier,’ he continued gently, ‘but you can’t put your life on hold while you wait to find out one way or the other. You could carry on like that indefinitely and still not get an answer.’

Beginning to feel like one of those novelty dogs in the backs of cars, Janey nodded again.

Guy’s voice was wonderfully soothing and now that her nose was no longer blocked from crying she was able to taste the hefty measure of brandy he’d added to her coffee.

Guy, however, was really getting into his stride. ‘I’m going to be brutal,’ he said, fixing her with his unnervingly direct gaze. ‘If Alan is dead, he’s dead. If he’s alive, it means he did a particularly cowardly runner. Either way, the marriage is over.’

He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know, but Janey still winced. Having clung so fiercely in those first few weeks to the total-amnesia theory, she had neverbeen able to discard it from her subconscious.

‘Yes,’ she replied obediently. ‘I know that.’

‘So what you have to do is put it behind you anyway and rebuild your life.’

Janey managed a brief smile. ‘That’s what I was trying to do. With Bruno.’

‘Heaven help us.’With a rueful shake of his head, Guy said, ‘Now that’s what I call choosing the wrong man for the job.Tell me, who would you go to if you needed brain surgery?

A lumberjack?’

‘Don’t. I think ‘I must need brain surgery.’ This time she laughed. All of a sudden, the Bruno fiasco didn’t seem quite so terrible. Guy had certainly been right when he’d said it helped to have someone to talk to.

‘OK, so now you forget him,’ he declared briskly. ‘He’s an unscrupulous little shit and he’ll get his comeuppance sooner or later. With any luck,’ he added suddenly, ‘it’ll be with Maxine.

Punishment enough for any man, I’d have thought. Even a bastard like Parry-Brent.’

By the time Guy rose to leave it was gone three o’clock. Janey, opening the front door for him, found herself suddenly and unaccountably overcome by shyness.

‘Well, thank you.’ Clutching the door handle for support, she shifted from one stockinged foot to the other. ‘For um ... bringing me home. And for staying to talk.’

No problem,’ said Guy easily. ‘I’ve enjoyed myself.’

Without her high heels, she was dwarfed by him. And since he’d seen her lose both her dignity and her makeup, Janey realized, there wasn’t a great deal of point in being shy. She owed him so much for having come to her rescue, the very least she could do was reach up on tiptoe and give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

But her courage failed her, and she remained firmly rooted to the carpet. Some people, like Maxine, did that kind of thing all the time but she herself just wasn’t the quick-kiss-on-the-cheek type. Besides, thought Janey, how awful if Guy thought she was making some kind of amateurish pass at him .. .

‘I’m glad you decided to sneak away from the charity dinner, anyway,’ she said hurriedly, before he could read her mind.

‘Not half as glad as I am.’ He grinned. ‘It was pretty dire.’

‘And I hope Charlotte isn’t too furious with you for abandoning her at the party.’

‘Well at least you’ve managed to stop apologizing,’ said Guy, sounding amused. ‘All you have to do now is stop feeling guilty on my behalf. If I’m not worried about Charlotte, I don’t see why you should be.’

‘Oh, but isn’t she—’

‘Absolutely not. She’s a friend, but that’s as far as it goes. And shame on you,’ he added in mocking tones, ‘for even thinking otherwise. What has your fiendish sister been saying about me?’

‘Nothing at all,’ lied Janey. ‘I’m sorry. It was just me, getting it wrong as usual. I suppose it was because Charlotte seemed so ... well, so keen.’

‘She did?’ Guy looked genuinely surprised. Then he shrugged. ‘I’m not encouraging her, anyway. As I told you once before, I gave up behaving like Bruno Parry-Brent a couple of years ago. It isn’t worth the hassle.’ He paused, then added severely, ‘And whilst we’re on the subject of faithfulness, who was that chap I saw you with at the theatre the other week? I don’t suppose you mentioned him to Bruno.’

Aaargh, thought Janey, blushing in the darkness. Just when she thought she’d got away with it. ‘Oh, him. He wasn’t worth mentioning,’ she said, her tone off-hand. ‘I hadn’t even met him before that night. A so-called friend set me up on a blind date.’ She shuddered. ‘I could have killed her; I’d never been so embarrassed in my life.’

‘Until tonight,’ Guy reminded her. ‘And I’m afraid you’re really going to have to learn not to feel guilty on your own behalf.’

Janey’s blush deepened. ‘What do you mean?’

‘After you’d left, I was introduced to your blind date’s sister,’ he replied evenly. ‘She told me he’d met you through a Lonely Hearts column in the local paper.’

‘Oh God,’ sighed Janey, mortified.

‘I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed,’ Guy continued briskly. ‘He might have a loud laugh but he can’t be as much of a bastard as Parry-Brent. You need to make up your mind about what you really want.’

Now he’d managed to make her feel deeply ashamed of herself. Was there no end to this man’s talents?

‘Sleep, I think.’ Janey glanced at her watch. It was three-fifteen.

‘I’m going. Just one more thing.’

Eyeing him warily, she said, ‘What?’

‘Something you said earlier.’ Guy broke into a broad grin. ‘It’s been bothering me. Do you really think I look like Marje Proops?’

Chapter 28

‘Oh please,’ Maxine begged, thrusting the letter into Guy’s hands. In her excitement she’d almost torn it in two. ‘Look, the audition’s tomorrow! I’ll just die if I can’t go up for it ... and think how thrilled Josh and Ella would be if I was chosen! They’d be able to see me on television

...’

‘Sitting on the loo,’ said Guy acerbically, having scanned the contents of the letter.

‘Maxine, this is an audition for a toilet-roll commercial. It’s hardly Macbeth.’

‘You mustn’t say that word; it’s always referred to as the Scottish play,’ she replied in lofty tones. Then, because she didn’t want to irritate him, she waved her arms in a gesture of apology.

‘But you can call it anything you like.’

‘I still call this a toilet-roll commercial.’ Guy remained unimpressed. ‘And I can’t imagine why you should even want to do it. What’s happened, have they run out of puppies?’

Maxine was practically hopping up and down with frustration. It was all right for him, she seethed; he was already successful and famous.

‘It’s a brilliant opportunity,’ she explained, struggling to control her impatience and giving him a beseeching look. ‘It means I’d be seen by millions, and that includes other directors. A break like this gets you known. And the pay is fabulous too. All those repeat fees!’

‘It’s still only an audition.’ Guy frowned. ‘I don’t know what makes you think you stand a chance anyway.’

‘I do,’ said Maxine happily. ‘The casting director’s a friend of mine. Oh please say I can go! It isn’t too much to ask, is it? If I catch the eight o’clock train tomorrow morning I can be home again by six.’

‘And I’m flying out to Amsterdam tonight. What are you planning to do with Josh and Ella, cart them up to London with you?’

He was being deliberately unhelpful, Maxine decided, because he didn’t want her to win the part, get famous and leave him with the task of finding a new nanny. How selfish could a man be?

‘Serena’s here,’ she reminded him. ‘She isn’t doing anything tomorrow. Why can’t she look after the kids?’

‘I’m not a kid,’ declared Josh, wandering into the kitchen and looking cross. ‘I’m nine years old and a half. Maxine, we’re still hungry. Could you make some more peanut-butter-and-jam sandwiches?’

‘You aren’t a kid,’ Maxine retaliated briskly. ‘You’re nine years old and a half, and I’m busy arguing with your father. Make your own horrible sandwiches.’

‘What are you arguing about?’

‘I want to audition for a TV commercial.’ Maxine looked sorrowful. ‘And your father won’t let me take the time off to do it.’

‘How long does it take?’

She sighed. ‘Only a few hours.’

Josh’s eyes lit up with excitement. Turning to Guy he said, ‘Oh Dad, say yes! If Maxine’s on television I can tell all my friends at school. They’ll be dead jealous ... please say she can go to the audition!’

Maxine crossed her fingers behind her back, assumed a saintly expression and silently vowed never to tease Josh about Tanya Trevelyan again.

Guy, looking suspicious, addressed Josh. ‘Is this a setup? Did she tell you to come in here and say that?’

‘No.’ Bewildered, Josh said, ‘What’s a set-up?’

‘OK.’ Returning his attention to Maxine he said wearily, ‘But only if Serena agrees. And you’ll have to ask her yourself.’

Maxine could have kissed him. Instead, more prudently, she said, ‘Thank you thank you thank you,’ flashed him a dazzling smile, and made a dash for the kitchen door before he could change his mind. ‘I’ll go and speak to her right away ...’

Josh caught up with her at the top of the stairs.

‘My angel,’ cried Maxine, picking him up and showering kisses on his blond head.

‘Yeeuk!’ said Josh. Put me down. Kissing’s for cissies.’

‘You were brilliant.’

‘I know I was.’ He wiped his hair, then grinned. ‘You aren’t the only one around here who can act, you know. Come on Maxine, hand over the ten pounds.’

It wasn’t that Serena actively disliked children, she had simply never found much use for them. An adored only child of parents who had themselves been only children, she had wanted for nothing and enjoyed their undivided attention to the full. Extended networks of brothers and sisters and cousins, as far as the young Serena could make out, only meant having to share your toys and wear hand-me-downs. And if there were four children in one family, she deduced, each child could only receive a quarter of the love. She couldn’t understand for the life of her why any parents should ever want more than one.

Those had been Serena’s thoughts throughout her own childhood. People change, however, and by the time she reached her early twenties she had revised her opinions. The prospect of having to endure pregnancy in order to produce a baby had become more and more off-putting.

Not only would it mean putting her career on hold for almost a year, but there was no sure-fire guarantee that you wouldn’t turn into a blimp and lose your figure for good. Besides, there was no rule that said you had to bear offspring anyway. She could go one better than having one child, she concluded happily. She needn’t have any at all.

And, as time passed, Serena looked around at her friends and saw that she had made absolutely the right decision. Children were expensive, time-consuming and inconvenient. As for their table manners ... well, they could be positively grotesque.

But then along had come Guy, a coveted catch by any standards, and Serena, who up until now had made a point of steering well clear of men-with-children, realized that he was simply too good an opportunity to pass up. Josh and Ella were something of a drawback but at least there was no neurotic ex-wife lurking in the background. And Guy employed a full-time nanny, which Serena decided was another bonus. She wouldn’t actually be expected to look after them herself.

‘Serena, Josh has got his toast jammed in the toaster and there’s all smoke coming out of it.’

Serena, who had been reading Harpers & Queen with her fingertips carefully splayed, suppressed a sigh of irritation. As children went, Ella and Josh weren’t bad – and their table manners, at least, were faultless – but they certainly knew how to pick their moments.

‘Tell him to switch the toaster off,’ she said. ‘I can’t do anything now. My nails are wet.’

Ella gazed enviously at Serena’s glistening nails, the exact colour of pink bubble-gum.

‘Could you paint my nails for me?’

‘Your father wouldn’t like that.’

‘Daddy isn’t here. He’s in Holland.’

‘I think you’re too young for nail polish.’ Serena’s attention was drifting back to Galliano’s autumn collection. Darling John, one of her favourite designers, had such an eye for colour and line. Those velvet jackets were divine .. .

‘When your fingers are dry, will you do my hair in plaits then? With ribbons threaded through them?’

Serena raised her gaze from the glossy pages. Ella was shifting from foot to foot in front of her, looking hopeful.

‘What?’

‘With pink and white ribbons threaded all through them, like when Maxine does it for me.’

Serena had observed this ritual on numerous occasions during the past weeks. Even Maxine, with her practised, nimble fingers, couldn’t complete the complicated procedure in less than twenty minutes.

‘Sweetheart, your hair looks fine as it is,’ she said in soothing tones. ‘It’s much prettier hanging loose. Now why don’t you run back into the kitchen, and tell Josh to switch off the toaster? Your father isn’t going to be very pleased if he sets the kitchen on fire.’

The result of such lack of interest was that by midafternoon Ella was deeply bored. Josh, addicted to computer games and taking full advantage of Maxine and Guy’s absence, was closeted in his bedroom with his beloved Gameboy, going glassy-eyed over Pokémon. Normally limited to thirty-minute sessions, he was in heaven. Guy always confiscated the batteries when half an hour was up. Maxine, even more infuriatingly, swiped the whole thing and started playing the game herself.

‘Go away,’ he told Ella, who was perched on the end of his bed kicking her heels.

‘Can’t I have a turn?’

‘No. I’ve got fourteen thousand points.’

Ella stuck out her bottom lip. ‘But Jo-osh--’

‘And stop kicking the bed, you’re making me blink.’

Ella kicked the bed harder. Josh, putting the game on pause, leaned across and shoved her on to the floor.

‘Look, you make me blink and I haven’t got time to blink. Just go away and leave me alone.’

‘I hate you,’ whined Ella, but Josh wasn’t going to be drawn into a fight. Fourteen thousand points was his highest score ever and he had no intention of stopping now.

‘Good,’ he murmured as Ella flounced towards the bedroom door. ‘I hate you too.’

If she couldn’t have her hair in plaits and she couldn’t play with Josh, Ella decided, she should at least be allowed to buy sweets instead. It was only fair.

Serena, who had finished with Harpers & Queen, was now engrossed in the Tatler. Several of her more glamorous friends were featured in this month’s edition and it was always fun seeing who’d been doing what. Even better, the fact that they were often caught unawares by the camera meant there was always the chance of spotting an unflattering expression, an exposed bra strap, even a lethal hint of a double chin .. .

‘Can we go down to the shop and buy some sweets?’

Glancing up from the pages of Bystander, Serena saw that Ella was back. This time she was clutching a yellow purse shaped like a banana.

‘Of course you can, darling.’

‘I’ve got eighty pence.’

‘How lovely.’ Serena gave her a benevolent smile. When she showed no sign of moving from the sofa, however, Ella tried again.

‘Can we go now, please?’

As realization dawned, Serena’s smile faded. ‘Isn’t Josh going with you?’

‘He won’t. He’s playing his stupid Gameboy game. It isn’t far away, though.’ Ella gave her a pleading look. ‘And it’s stopped raining now so we won’t get wet.’

Trudging half a mile down a muddy lane overhung with dripping chestnut trees wasn’t Serena’s idea of fun, although it was gratifying to think that Ella wanted her company. ‘Thank you, darling,’ she replied, her tone soothing, ‘but I’m not really in the mood for a walk right now. Maybe tomorrow.’

Ella was by this time thoroughly confused. Serena appeared to be saying no to the walk, but she hadn’t said no to the sweets. Desperate for Rolos and Maltesers, she said in hesitant tones,

‘Does that mean I can go down to the shop?’

‘Of course you can,’ Serena replied absently, her attention captured by a familiar face amongst the guests at a recent society wedding. Good heavens, she hadn’t seen Trudy Blenkarne for years and now here she was, complete with nose job, collagen-inflated lips and an ugly Texan husband to boot .. .

It absolutely wasn’t fair, thought Josh, shaking the Gameboy and willing the batteries to surge back to life. Just when there was nobody to stop him playing, they’d had to run out. And it was all Maxine’s fault, he decided crossly. She was the one who’d kept confiscating the game and playing it instead of doing the ironing. Now she’d used them up.

Feeling vaguely remorseful for having driven Ella away earlier, he went in search of her.

His sister’s bedroom was empty, however, and when he got downstairs he found Serena alone in the sitting room, drinking orange juice and watching television.

‘Oh,’ said Josh, surprised. ‘I thought Ella was down here with you.’

A girl was abseiling down the side of a tall building. Serena, evidently enthralled, waited until she’d reached the ground before turning to smile at Josh.

‘I’d probably be sick if I had to do that, wouldn’t you? No ... I haven’t seen Ella for a while.

Perhaps she’s upstairs.’

He frowned. ‘I’ve already looked in her room.’

‘Oh well.’ Serena shrugged, sipped her orange juice and glanced up at the grandfather clock. ‘She’s around somewhere. Go and find her, Josh, and ask her what she’d like for tea. It’s either fish cakes or poached eggs on toast.’

When Josh returned to the sitting room ten minutes later, Serena still hadn’t moved.

‘She isn’t anywhere,’ he said, his voice taut with worry. ‘I’ve looked all over the house and in the garden and she isn’t anywhere at all.’

Serena sighed. ‘Well when did you last see her? What time did she get back from the shop?’

‘What shop?’

‘The newsagent’s,’ said Serena patiently. ‘She went to buy sweets.’

Twitching with agitation, Josh stared at her. ‘On her own?’

She stared back. ‘Of course on her own. She said you wouldn’t go with her because you were playing with that silly Gameboy machine.’

‘But Ella isn’t allowed to go to the shop without someone with her.’ Abruptly, Josh’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Because of strange men. She’s only seven years old.’

Chapter 29

Having waved Paula off, Janey closed the shop at five o’clock and settled down to the fiddly business of constructing a fourteen-foot flower garland, commissioned by a local dignitary to festoon the buffet table at his wife’s sixtieth birthday celebrations. Linen bows, stiffened with flour-and-water paste and sprayed silver, were to be interspersed along the swagged length of the garland and the flowers – summer jasmine, champagne roses and stephanotis – needed to be wired painstakingly into place. It was a time-consuming but rewarding task and the end result, Janey hoped, would be spectacular. The party, too, sounded very much a keeping-up-with-the-Joneses affair and could bring plenty more business her way, so long as the dignitary’s wife didn’t try and pass off the flower garland as a little something she’d knocked up in her own spare time.

She was up to her elbows in damp sphagnum moss, packing it securely around the wire which formed the basis of the garland, when the phone rang.

‘Janey, is that you?’

It was a young voice and at first she didn’t recognize it. ‘Yes, it’s me. Who’s that?’

‘Josh. Josh Cassidy. Maxine gave me your number in case anything was ever wrong, and she’s not due back home until tonight ...’

He sounded very scared. Janey, her heart racing, wiped her wet hands on her sweater and said, ‘It’s OK, Josh. I’m here. What’s the matter?’

‘Dad’s away.’ His voice was high and strained, as if he was struggling to hold back tears.

‘Serena’s been looking after us today but Ella went down to the shop an hour and a half ago on her own and she hasn’t come back. I said we should phone 999 but Serena thinks I’m making a fuss about nothing. She says I mustn’t call them and that Ella will be back soon, but she isn’t even supposed to go out on her own and I’m worried about her. Janey, what do you think I should do?’

Janey’s blood ran cold. Was Serena out of her mind? ‘Darling, don’t worry,’ she said urgently, as memories of Alan’s disappearance flooded back. ‘I’m sure Ella will be just fine, but to be on the safe side I’ll phone the police myself.’

‘What about Serena? She’ll be cross with me.’

His voice began to break. Janey, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, said, ‘Don’t you worry about Serena. As soon as I’ve phoned the police I’ll come on over. You’ve done absolutely the right thing, Josh. Just hang on for a few minutes and I’ll be there with you. And you needn’t say anything to Serena if you don’t want to. I’ll speak to her myself.’

Abandoning the flower garland on the shop floor, Janey drove the van faster than it had ever been driven before in order to reach Trezale House before the police did. Thankfully, Tom Lacey had been on duty when she’d phoned and explained the situation, and he was on his way.

Serena opened the front door. From the expression on her face Josh had evidently spoken to her after all.

‘Have you really called the police?’ she said, frowning at the sight of Janey in her unflattering work clothes. ‘I must say you’re making an extraordinary fuss about this. Ella’s probably bumped into a friend.’

‘And maybe she’s bumped into a maniac with a penchant for attacking little girls,’ Janey retorted, only managing to keep her voice down because she’d spotted Josh hovering white-faced in the hallway behind her. ‘For God’s sake, Serena. How long were you planning to wait before you did anything ... a few days?’

‘But this is Cornwall.’ For the first time Serena began to look worried. ‘If we were in London ... well, OK, there are weirdos about ... but it’s different down here.’

‘That is the most pathetic excuse I’ve ever heard in my life,’ Janey replied icily, pushing past her and reaching for Josh. Flinging his arms around her waist, he buried his blond head in the folds of her sweater in order to hide his wet face.

‘You can’t let the police try and blame me for this,’ Serena protested. ‘No one told me Ella wasn’t supposed to go out alone. It isn’t my fault if something’s happened to her.’

Josh’s whole body was trembling. Having led him gently into the sitting room, Janey pulled him on to her lap whilst Serena remained outside. Nothing’s happened to Ella,’ she murmured, cradling him in her arms as he choked back tears. ‘I expect she’s just wandered off and forgotten the time.’

‘But I t-told her to leave me alone,’ Josh sobbed. ‘She said she hated me because I was playing with my Gameboy and I said I hated her back. What if she’s run away for ever?’

It was a fear with which Janey was only too painfully familiar. In the distance she heard the sound of a fast-approaching car. At the same moment the rain started up again, giant droplets splattering noisily against the windows.

‘Ella knows you don’t hate her,’ she said in soothing tones. ‘You might have said it, but you didn’t mean it any more than she did. Come on now, sweetheart, use this handkerchief and blow your nose. Tom’s here. What you have to do now is try and think where Ella may have gone, so we know where to start looking. What about schoolfriends living nearby ... ?’

Tom Lacey, himself the proud new father of six-weekold twin boys, questioned Josh with kindly understanding and attention to detail. When he’d finished, he put away his notebook and stood up.

‘Right then, all you have to do it wait here. I’ll check out the addresses of those names you’ve given me, and call in at the shop on my way. If young Ella turns up back here in the meantime, you can phone the station and they’ll contact me on the car radio.’

The thought of staying at the house and doing nothing, however, was too much for Josh.

‘Can’t we come with you?’ he pleaded, but Tom shook his head.

‘Best not,’ he said gently.

‘But I want to help look for her!’

Sensing his need to do something, Janey squeezed his hand.

‘If she’s gone to a friend’s house, Tom will find her.’

‘And if she’s run away, he won’t,’ said Josh. ‘Will you come out with me, Taney? I want to look for her too.’

The rain was torrential by the time the two of them set out on foot to investigate the wooded areas bordering the narrow lane which led away from the house. The woodland, dark and forbidding, separated the lane from the clifftop a quarter of a mile away. Janey, who had borrowed one of Maxine’s hopelessly impractical jackets, was soaked to the skin within minutes.

‘If we move too far away from the road we won’t be able to hear Tom sounding his siren,’

she warned. This was to be the signal that Ella had been found.

But Josh, already clambering over fallen branches and pushing his way through the woody undergrowth, didn’t stop. Turning, he glanced up at her from beneath his drooping yellow sou’wester. ‘If she was close to the road she would have come home.’

Janey wiped the rain from her face. The trees grew more densely here and there were no clear paths, yet Josh was moving purposefully on ahead. She almost said, Do you come here often? but caught herself in time. Instead, catching up with him, she turned him back round to face her once more. ‘josh, do you know where you’re going?’

For a second, the dark blue eyes flickered away. Josh drew a breath. ‘Well, we’ve been through here a few times. It’s a short cut to the top of the cliffs, but Dad told us we weren’t allowed to come through the wood, so ...’

He shrugged, his voice trailing away.

‘... So you know this area like the back of your hand,’ Janey supplied, giving him a brief smile and refusing even to think about the clifftop ahead. ‘Don’t panic, I’m not going to tell you off; come on, Josh, lead the way.’

They found Ella fifteen minutes later, lying in a small crumpled heap against a fallen tree.

Cold and extremely wet, her face was streaked with mud and tears.

So relieved she found it hard to breathe, Janey said unevenly, ‘Here you are then. We wondered where you’d got to.’

But for Josh, who had been fearing the worst and blaming himself, relief took another form.

Unable to control himself, he shouted, ‘How dare you run away! I didn’t mean what I said ...

How could you be so stupid!’

When Janey tried to help her to her feet however, Ella let out a piercing shriek. ‘I didn’t run away, I tripped over a blackberry branch and hurt my ankle ... ouch, it hurts!’

Carefully investigating the ankle, Janey saw that it was badly swollen but probably not broken. ‘It’s OK, sweetheart. Put your arms around my neck and let me lift you up.’

‘Stupid,’ repeated Josh, choking back fresh tears. ‘Serena’s mad as hell, and we called the police in case you’d been murdered.’

Ella, clinging to Janey, shouted, ‘Well I wasn’t murdered and I hate Serena anyway. I went to the shopand bought some sweets and on the way back ‘I saw a rabbit going along our secret path so I followed it, to give it some chocolate. But then I fell over and the rabbit ran off and it started raining. If you hadn’t told me to go away,’ she added, her voice rising to a piteous wail,

‘we could both have gone to the shop and I wouldn’t have been all on my own when I fell over.’

The Walton it wasn’t.

‘OK, OK,’ Janey said soothingly, struggling to get a secure grip on Ella and mentally bracing herself for the trek back through the woods. ‘Stop arguing, you two. Josh, you’ll have to go before me and hold the branches out of my way. And Ella’s very cold; why don’t you take off your oilskin and drape it round her shoulders?’

‘Because I’ll get wet.’

‘He’s a pig,’ sniffed Ella. ‘It’s all Josh’s fault anyway. I still hate him.’

‘And you’re a litter-bug,’ Josh retaliated, pointing an accusing finger at the Rolo wrapper and shreds of gold foil on the ground. ‘I’m going to tell the policeman you left that there. You’ll probably have to go to prison.’

The time had come to be firm. Janey, whose arms were aching already, said, ‘All right, that’s enough. Josh, pick up that sweet wrapper and stop arguing this minute.’

‘I’m c-cold,’ whimpered Ella, whose blond, raindrenched hair was plastered to her head.

‘And take off that oilskin. Your sister needs it more than you do.’

‘I thought you were nicer than Maxine.’ Obeying at the speed of mud, Josh gave her a sulky look. ‘But you aren’t.’

* * *

Maxine returned to the house at eight-thirty, by which time Tom Lacey had left, the local doctor had also been and gone and the only physical reminder of the afternoon’s events was a neat white pressure bandage encasing Ella’s left ankle, of which she was fast becoming inordinately proud.

‘What’s going on? Why’s Janey’s van parked outside?’

Looking puzzled, Maxine dropped her coat over the back of an armchair. Serena, hogging the sofa as usual, was apparently engrossed in a frantic game show on the television. An ancient skinny man, having evidently just won himself a vacuum cleaner and a weekend at a health farm, was leaping up and down in ecstasy.

Nothing’s going on.’ Serena finally turned to meet her gaze. ‘Ella sprained her ankle, that’s all. Your sister has been making an incredible amount of fuss over a simple accident.’

Maxine stared back. Janey doesn’t make incredible amounts of fuss unless there’s a damn good reason for it. What kind of simple accident are we talking about?’

But Serena merely shrugged. ‘You may as well ask her, she’s so much better at lurid detail than I am. She’s upstairs, putting the children to bed. Probably giving them nightmares, too, with that neurotic imagination of

Chapter 30

Janey was working in the shop three days later when Guy Cassidy came in. Having been kept bang up to date with the goings-on at Trezale House by Maxine gleefully relaying each new instalment over the phone, Janey could almost have timed his entrance to the second.

‘He’s leaving now,’ Maxine had shrieked, minutes earlier. ‘Put in a good word for me, Janey, and tell him I deserve a pay rise.’

In order not to give the game away, however, she looked dutifully surprised to see him.

‘I’ve come to thank you,’ Guy said simply. Then, breaking into a grin, he added, ‘But I have a bit of a problem. If it had been anyone else, I would have brought them flowers ...’

If there was one major drawback to this job, thought Janey, it was that nobody ever brought you flowers.

‘The story of my life,’ she replied with a good-humoured shrug. ‘But you don’t need to thank me, anyway. You helped me when I had a problem; all I did was return the favour.’

‘Rather more than that,’ said Guy. ‘And I’m still grateful. I was going to bring you chocolates but Maxine insisted they’d wreck your slimming campaign.’ Studying her figure for a moment he frowned and added, ‘Are you really on a diet?’

‘Oh dear.’ Janey looked amused. ‘Does that mean it isn’t working?’

‘It means you don’t need to lose weight.’

Acutely aware of his speculative gaze still upon her, Janey flushed with embarrassment. It was all very well for Guy Cassidy to say she didn’t need to diet, but she couldn’t help noticing that men like him only ever chose girlfriends as thin as sticks, the kind who could step out of a size-fourteen skirt without even undoing the zip.

‘How is Ella?’ she said, changing the subject.

‘Recovering nicely.’ Guy smiled. ‘And passionately attached to the bandage. She doesn’t really need it any more but whenever we suggest taking it off, the limp gets worse.’

‘And Josh?’

This time he pulled a face. ‘You mean my modest son? He’s cast himself in the role of rescuing hero. By the time he goes back to school next week he’ll probably have awarded himself an OBE at the very least.’

Janey laughed. ‘So everything’s all right then, at home. Business as usual.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t quite say that.’ He gave her an ambiguous look. ‘And it’s nice of you to ask, but I’m sure you know all the latest developments. Every time I’ve picked up the phone during the last few days,’ he added pointedly, ‘it’s wafted Maxine’s perfume back at me. And the receiver’s always warm.’

Caught out, she said, ‘Ah.’

‘So I’ll just say the situation has been dealt with.’

At that moment a customer entered the shop behind him. Guy, leaning against the counter, lowered his voice. ‘And since flowers and chocolates are out of the window, how about a couple of theatre tickets instead?’

‘You really don’t have to,’ protested Janey.

‘I want to. And the tickets are for Saturday night. Do you have someone you’d like to take with you?’

Flustered by the unexpectedness of the question, she said, ‘Um ... well. Maybe Maxine?’

‘What a shame, she has to stay at home and babysit,’ Guy replied briskly. ‘Never mind, perhaps I’ll do instead.’

Behind him, the woman customer waved a bunch of dripping gladioli. Distracted, wondering whether he had just said what she thought he’d said, Janey stammered, ‘Y-you mean ...?’

‘Well you can hardly invite Bruno, can you?’ Guy grinned. ‘So that’s settled. I’ll pick you up on Saturday. What time do you close the shop?’

‘Um ... f-five o’clock.’

‘Good. It doesn’t take you too long to get ready, does it? I’ll pick you up at six.’

From her upstairs window, Janey watched as Guy expertly reversed the Mercedes into a parking space just outside the shop. As she had suspected, he was bang on time. Her stomach squirmed, the jitters refusing to subside. It was silly to be nervous, since it wasn’t even a proper date, but still the adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream, working overtime practically of its own accord.

It would be far easier, she thought, if only Guy Cassidy weren’t so physically attractive.

Such exceptional good looks were downright intimidating. Talking to him the other night in the privacy of her own home had been one thing, but this evening they were going to be seen out together in public, looking for all the world like a real couple. She was only too well aware of how she measured up against such willowy exotic beauties as Serena Charlton. In the back of her mind lurked the nightmare scenario that other people, observing them together, might be sniggering behind her back at such an unlikely pairing.